


This Is Where I'll Be

by Skiesinjuly



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blood and Gore, Cat Dad Will, Chiyoh to the rescue, Drug Use, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal really misses eating people, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough Sex, Top/bottom Hannibal, Top/bottom Will, Violence, Will is a slut, post-wrath of the lamb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skiesinjuly/pseuds/Skiesinjuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following their night with the Red Dragon, a wounded Will and Hannibal are fished out of the Atlantic and left to fend for themselves in the Appalachian wilderness. The treacherous terrain and wildlife are the least of their worries.</p><p>Hannigram fic. Follows the finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what the hell I'm doing. I needed to write something fluffy and melodramatic to take my mind off of some stuff and thangs. Rated for future chapters... There will be sex, I promise.

 

The night had been a sublime blur of beauty and flesh and brutal realization. He recalled the coast, silent if not for shared ragged breaths and the waves calling out to them from below. An embrace, overwhelming him and ruining him as the sea and sky merged into one. Weightlessness, hot breath in his ear even as they fell. The overwhelming taste of copper in his mouth, the salt water in his open wounds and in his lungs. He never let go.  
  
He had struggled against the tide, crying out when his head broke above the water’s surface in pain and fear and so many things he couldn’t say aloud.    
  
I should have died, Will thought to himself. _They_ should have died.  
  
But as he stared at the man lying next to him, eyes closed, his breaths coming in ragged little wheezes and his hands so cold, his demeanor softened. Tentatively, he touched Hannibal’s face, calloused fingers tracing the sharp angle of his cheek. The man’s blond eyelashes twitched, barely noticeable. He slowly opened one dark eye, squinting against the sunlight seeping through the shuttered windows of the cabin. His lips curled into a faint smile and Will felt his ears turn red.  
  
It had been two days since Chiyoh had fished them out of the Atlantic. Will still hadn’t decided whether that had been a good thing or a bad thing, although he was beginning to lean more towards the former. He wasn’t sure where they were exactly, only that they had been taken somewhere remote and wild, far from the ensuing search. Chiyoh had left them there at the little cabin the night before, with food, clothes, toiletries, and a promise to return soon. She had also provided them with a burner phone in case of an emergency. “Cabin” may have been too generous a term, as it was more of a shack; its very foundation seemed to sink into the surrounding wilderness. But the looming canopy of  trees concealed it well, so he supposed it was as good a place as any. Still, their idleness made him uneasy.  
  
“Good morning.” Hannibal said hoarsely, the sudden sound of his voice startling the younger man; they hadn’t talked much since the night with Dolarhyde. Chiyoh had patched them up as best she could, and Hannibal was more than capable of tending to their many wounds, but the pair were still sore and weak and neither had moved from the single bed. Will’s chest ached from the saltwater he’d inhaled, his throat raw and dry and he couldn’t seem to keep warm no matter how many blankets he huddled under. He wondered if the other man was experiencing the same. Save for the occasional coughing and rattling breaths, he remained stoic as ever.  
  
“Morning.” Will replied quietly, wincing at the stabbing pain in his right cheek. The stitches pulled uncomfortably whenever he moved his mouth, despite the pain medicine, making it difficult to eat or speak. The other man’s eyes, eyes that Will had always seen as so predatory, flicked to the wound. He pursed his lips.  
  
Hannibal reached out, closing the space between them. His movements uncharacteristically cautious, he brushed a few stray curls from the younger man’s forehead. Will let out a shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  
  
“So. What now?” He asked as Hannibal continued to thread his long fingers through the tangled mess of hair.  
  
He paused for a moment, expression shifting back to the passive mask Will had become so accustomed to. He pulled away.  
  
“So eager to leave me?” He sniffed, lip twitching in disdain.  
  
Something about that made Will’s chest ache. Perhaps it was the pervading chill, or the way the pain pills made his head swim, but he scooted closer to the body next to him, curling into the warmth. Hannibal practically melting against him, burying his nose in the mop of curls. Will felt him sigh, heard his heartbeat quicken.  
  
“No.” Will muttered. “Just… anxious. We should be running, not lying around waiting to be found.”  
  
“We are safe here, for now. And I doubt we’d get very far in this state.”  
  
The smaller man pulled back, just enough so that he could see the others face. He smiled faintly, although his eyes remained sad, uncertain.  
  
“We’ll rest. Recover. One day at a time, Will.” Hannibal continued. “Chiyoh is resourceful, she’ll find a way. We can trust her.”  
  
“She threw me from a train.‘ Will said, deadpan. “And then shot me.”  
  
At that, Hannibal smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they rarely did. It was a warm, genuine, toothy grin and without thinking, Will kissed him. Softly, really just lips brushing against lips, but for the first time since the fall, he didn’t feel so cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is so cheesy and over dramatic and just what I needed.

The sun would be rising over the protective barrier of the Appalachians any moment now . It was that odd span of time just before dawn, when the world seemed to be at its darkest, tranquil and lonely. Cicadas hummed from all around, the droning cacophony heavy in the thick, humid air. It felt familiar, tangible, and it suddenly dawned on Will that it was around that time when he would first take the dogs out in the morning. It’d been a nice little routine, comfortably domestic. Ordinary. He’d grin, chuckling as his pack ran in large looping circles around the yard, the cool dew of a new day collecting on their fur and whiskers. He always made sure to wipe their paws before returning inside, just in case any of them decided to jump into bed with he and Molly. 

Will gasped, chest heaving as he took a big gulp of air. He sat perched on the uneven wooden steps to the cabin, head in his palms and feet bare, his white cotton shirt drenched in sweat. He wiped his wet face with a pitiful whimper.

He'd had a dream, and now he couldn’t stop thinking of her: an idyllic sun-drenched boardwalk, the rays too golden, too warm to be real. Hands entwined, fingers laced together, a thumb drawing slow circles in the tender flesh of his palm. Hannibal kissed the sea-spray from his cheeks and his nose and Will laughed, truly laughed as he hadn’t in a long time. He felt a sense of crushing nostalgia for a time that never was, for a place he’d never been. And then he saw her. Like a ghost in the crowd, she watched them, her too-pale fingers clutching her wedding band, mouth agape. Not in anger or horror or even sadness, but in earth-shattering awe. Awe that her husband, the man who had promised to love her and her son for the rest of their lives, was alive, with the belief that he had been returned to her. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and a smile spread across her face, devastatingly beautiful and heartbreaking and he wanted to go to her, if only to let her know that he was okay. But the hand held in his own was warm and heavy and the thought of letting go sent him into a frenzied panic, caused bile to rise in his throat. He imagined himself at a crossroads, tried to convince himself that he was conflicted. But the truth was that he had made this decision a long time ago, back in Dr. Du Maurier’s office. 

“Is Hannibal in love with me?“ He’d asked, though, truly, he’d already known, had always known. Even in the optimistic haze of his dreams, something about that terrified him. 

There was no point; the man Molly had loved died on the coast that night, his body forever lost to the Atlantic. He knew he had nothing left to offer this woman. And so dream-Will tugged on Hannibal’s arm and led them away, to a place where the sun would not reach them. The last thing he saw before waking up was the horrible realization washing over her like boiling waves.

The screen door creaked and Hannibal was there, sitting down beside him on the rotted little wooden stairs in a pair of pajama bottoms that already managed to brightened Will‘s mood, his bandaged abdomen visible. He would never get used to seeing this side of the cannibal, not in a million years. He placed the back of his hand to Will’s forehead as one would check a child for sign of a fever. When they had fallen, it was as if a physical barrier had crumbled along with them; there were no more inhibitions, no restraint in their affections, although up until that point things had been nothing but chaste. Being curled up against the other man, hands in his hair and a mouth pressed to his temple as they dozed together on their shared bed in the afternoon sunshine, felt natural and if Will was going to be totally honest with himself, the only time he felt truly at ease. 

“A nightmare?” Hannibal asked sleepily, his eyes half closed and sporting the best case of bed head Will had ever seen. He covered his mouth to hide his amusement, inner turmoil momentarily forgotten.

“I’m sorry.” He snorted. “Did I wake you?”

Hannibal bit the inside of his cheek coyly, the corner of his mouth twitching. Eyes downcast, his lips curled into a sheepish smile as he folded his hands in his lap. “Perhaps, but all is forgiven. Are you all right?”

Will nodded, his hand finding the one closest to his, and rested his head wearily on the other man’s shoulder. He nuzzled against Hannibal’s neck, breathing in his scent; even the cheap dollar store soap Chiyoh had left them smelled exquisite on him. Hannibal kissed his forehead, something he had done countless times in the span of the past few days, but this time it felt different. This time his lips lingered a little longer, felt a bit hotter. Something primal stirred inside of Will, restless and hungry, and he craned his neck so that their mouths met, breaths hot and desperate as they crashed together. The strength and relative ease with which he manipulated the smaller man’s body, even when injured, amazed Will as Hannibal simply scooped him up and carried him into the cabin. 

He sat at the edge of the bed, pulling Will into his lap, then paused to admire the sight before him. The younger man’s lips were swollen, parted as he panted, pupils dilated with lust and an obvious erection pressed against Hannibal’s stomach. He rocked his hips against the man beneath him, hands dragging possessively down the bare, broad chest before him.

“I don’t… I’ve never…” Will muttered timidly, arms snaking their way around Hannibal’s neck, pulling their bodies flush against one another.

Hannibal had been in the middle of grabbing a handful of Will’s ass, squeezing appreciatively when he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by the confession. “You’ve never been with another man before?” 

He simply shook his head, fingers fiddling nervously at the nape of Hannibal’s neck. He then leaned forward so that their mouths nearly touched, a hot breath shared between them. 

“Show me.” He whispered.

That was all the permission he needed to shove Will down onto his back, pinning him against the bed. He kissed the hot, pulsing throat beneath him with a low, wanting growl. 

“If I hurt you,” Hannibal breathed, removing the sweat-stained t-shirt. “Please, let me know. Your first time can be quite painful if you’re not properly prepared.” Will snorted at that. 

“Since when has that ever concerned you?” He asked with a sardonic laugh, one hand instinctively grabbing at the pale scar across his abdomen. 

Hannibal caught the movement, lips pursed and expression serious. One arm propped against the bed, he placed his own hand over the one above the old wound, squeezing.

“This is different.” He spoke quietly, dark brown eye’s finding Will’s own. “I would never hurt you like this, Will.” 

Speechless, Will could only nod again and watch as Hannibal removed his boxers. He descended on him, fully taking him into his mouth. 

Will cried out, trembling as his senses were overwhelmed. He’d wondered about this very scenario so many times before, rarely ever seriously, but he had mused over thoughts of the cannibal’s skills with his mouth, all soft lips and a devilishly talented tongue. Something about that last part elicited a disturbing jolt of excitement in him. The man between his legs slurped obscenely, and Will couldn’t keep himself from pulling his hair, touching his jaw to feel the muscles there working as he began to bob up and down.

Hannibal pulled away, long enough to remove his own cloths. Will watched in rapt attention, taking in the lean outline of his body as he bent and sat back up, the curve of his long legs, the thin trail of hair leading from his navel to his dick, which was everything Will had expected and hoped for. He gulped despite himself. And then Hannibal was up and rummaging around the tiny room, muttering something darkly to himself in Lithuanian. The weak, early sunlight shone orange against his chiseled back as he dug through a duffle bag. He returned a moment later with a small bottle of what Will realized was lotion. 

“I apologize that we don’t have anything more… suitable.” He said, lying back down next to the other man, bottle in hand.

“Whatever.” Will grumbled impatiently, lips dragging along an angular shoulder, “It’s fine.”

A single, slick finger pressed into him, gentle but with even force and Will immediately hissed at the burning sensation. Lying on his back, he draped a bent leg over one of Hannibal’s own, clutching helplessly at the wrist of the hand that began to work in and out of him. Hannibal, pressed against his side, whispered things to him as he added another finger, only half of which Will could actually comprehend; he was light-headed, delirious. He then felt something powerful and unexpected, a bright burst of white hot pleasure that caused the muscles in his stomach to contract. He gasped into Hannibal’s mouth as he kissed him.

“Please. Please hurry. I can’t…” Will whimpered, cupping Hannibal’s face in his hands, blue eyes pleading. 

He was on top of him, then inside of him. All of him. 

Hannibal gasped, mouth agape and his forehead resting against Will’s own. “All right?” He asked breathlessly. 

Will responded by wrapping his legs around his waist, coaxing him closer, deeper.

“Fuck me.” Will growled as Hannibal began to move against him, nails digging savagely into the flesh of his back. “Fuck me like I know you want to. Don’t hold back; I want to know that this was worth it.”

Hannibal looked him in the eye, lips curling with the faintest hint of a smile. He sat up, Will’s parted legs resting over his thighs, and Hannibal’s strong hands gripping his hips with enough force to etch fingertip-shaped bruises into the tender flesh there. He rolled his hips, back muscles flexing and undulating in the sunlight. His hands trailed up and down Will’s arching, heaving body, slick with sweat. He gripped his dick, squeezing the head and began working him, slowly at first and then more frantic, falling into rhythm with his own thrusts. Will whimpered and whined beneath him like some kind of animal, biting a bloody crescent into the back of his hand as he watched Hannibal fuck him. It didn’t take long for him to lose himself. 

“Hannibal, I’m… I’m…” He sobbed as the other man finished him off.

What he wasn’t expecting was to be flipped onto his stomach, Hannibal pouncing on top of him and fucking him from behind into the bed which groaned and crashed into the wall. Will clutched the pillow beneath him helplessly, Hannibal’s chest pressed flush against his back as he mercilessly pounded into him in this prone position. Teeth, sharp and dangerous, clamped onto his shoulder, hard enough to hold him in place but not to break the skin, like two wolves. With a feral hiss, Hannibal came, and Will could feel himself being filled, hot, defiled and perfect.

“So.” Hannibal panted, kissing the back of his neck, arms wrapped possessively around the body still heaving below him. He was obviously pleased with himself. “Was it worth it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because dreaming about the wife you abandoned would turn anyone on, no?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is butthurt. Hannibal is an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone for the kind words. It blows my mind to think that people actually enjoy reading my stuff. This is probably the most supportive fandom I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. So yeah, you guys are the best.
> 
> Anyway I've actually come up with a legit plot for this story and am rather excited about it, as its quite different from most of the other (AMAZING) fics that I have read about these two shits following the last episode. There will be a supporting cast of original characters introduced later but I promise not to force any kind of stupid love triangle or anything like that. This will remain a 100% Hannigram fic at its core.

The ringing went on and on, the sound hollow and tinny to his ears even from a few feet away. Hannibal stood with his back to him, burner phone in hand, the other on his hip. At first he only tapped his foot against the threadbare rug, letting out an impatient and exasperated sigh before turning to Will with a subtlety annoyed look that said , “This is beyond pointless. The phone was to be saved in case of an emergency. We’re using up precious minutes and possibly giving away our location for nothing. I have the sudden urge to eat you if only out of spite.” Or, at least that’s the vibe Will got. 

But as the minutes quickly ticked past, even he was soon pacing back and forth, a tiger in a cage, his body rigid as he crossed the tiny expanse of space over and over again, gripping the cell phone with an unnecessary amount of force as he redialed the number their savior had left with them. Will hadn’t witnessed this facet of Hannibal in quite some time; all predator. If he hadn’t been so distraught over the questionable state of Chiyoh’s wellbeing, and in turn, their own, he would have probably been pretty turned on by the whole spectacle. 

An entire two weeks had passed since they took their little tumble off the cliff and they were beginning to run low on supplies. As the days got warmer, nights grew shorter, and their strength returned to them, Will’s anxiety over the lack of updates from their only chance of escape had begun to gnaw at him, despite Hannibal’s vigorous attempts at helping him unwind in the evenings. And mornings. Constantly, really. It wasn’t as though there was much else to do. And besides, it brought Will a great deal of comfort to be so close to the other man, in both body and mind. The sex was a great momentary distraction from the horrific guilt he still felt, for those he‘d left behind, for those whose lives he had destroyed. It was as though the act exorcised his demons, a ritualistic way for the two of them to release their true, raw nature upon one another without harming anyone but themselves. Any damage done was always consensual if not completely accidental. In the beginning Will had actually been quite shocked by the cannibal’s tenderness, the apologetic kisses peppering his face, hard stone-smooth hands worshiping his body. Hannibal was big on aftercare following their more brutal trysts, always so concerned for his lover, nuzzling and holding him for a long time in the aftermath. He had insisted on implementing a safe-word just in case but Will had never felt the need to use it; he enjoyed the animalistic quality, the untamed passion of it all. 

After a particularly rough session where the smaller man had asked to be choked to the point of nearly falling unconscious, Hannibal, still lying on top of his Will, head on his chest, had asked if he was perhaps using sex as a way of punishing himself for his misdeeds. 

“You’re not seriously doing what I think you‘re doing right now.” Will had spat, pushing the other off of him and getting up to quickly pull on his boxers, “You know I don’t like being fucking psychoanalyzed, Hannibal.” He’d then proceeded to storm out of the room, aware that he’d put his bottoms on backwards but too pissed to care. A throaty chuckle followed him. The makeup blowjob the following morning, however, had made for a pretty convincing apology. It had occurred to Will that, for the sake of any future occupants, that they should burn the cabin to the ground before their - hopefully - soon departure; thinking of the things they’d done on the little fold-out table in the kitchenette alone was enough to turn his cheeks red. 

“How does that thing even get a signal out here?” Will asked suddenly, breaking from his mental tangent. It had been something he’d been wondering about since the beginning of this whole ordeal, because it made absolutely no sense to him. From what Hannibal had told him, they were somewhere along a more remote stretch of the Appalachian trail, and he couldn’t imagine there being any cell towers for a great many miles. 

“There is a town nearby. Thirty miles, give or take.” Hannibal explained, apparently giving up on the call as he tossed the phone onto the bed a few steps away. A fluttering panic spread up Will’s spine, followed by a hot rush of anger. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What?” He didn’t sound angry. No, this more than that; a calm, building rage slowly bubbling to the surface. “You told me we were safe here.”

“We are safe.“ Hannibal‘s words were mechanical now. He’d adopted the poker-faced, human-mask again and Will suddenly wanted to throttle him. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? There’s a nationwide search going on and we’re, what, an hour out of town?” He was shaking now, much like his voice as it grew in volume. 

Will continued. “You said we were safe, that we could depend on Chiyoh. You… you said so many things. I don’t know why I thought I could trust you. I guess it’s my fault.”

He was out the front door in an instant, standing in the balmy twilight. He took a deep unsteady breath in an attempt to calm himself, ears filled with the wind and his own frantic pulse. He thought about leaving, but quickly realized how foolish that notion was. His face had undoubtedly been broadcast on every news station, every website, every paper coast to coast; the poor little profiler who had been spirited away by a monster. He could only imagine Freddie Lounds gleefully pecking away at her keyboard, and cringed. 

Will wandered deeper into the near-impenetrable woods, laden with a dense tangle of underbrush and snaking vines that choked the surrounding trees as far as the eye could see. Through gaps in the foliage he could just barely make out the towering wave of charcoal-gray clouds riding in from the north. His hair, longer and more disheveled than it had been for quite some time, ruffled in the coming storm. 

He heard the footsteps approaching from behind but tried not to react, didn’t want to. 

“You lash out in an attempt to redirect your own guilt.” Hannibal’s words were muted, barely audible over the howling wind, and chillingly even. “We are in our current predicament because of your actions. We survived because of Chiyoh, because of my connections. Had she not been there, watching from the cliffs, we’d have surely drown within minutes. I’m only trying to pick up the pieces, Will, to make them fit back together. I don’t have a lot to work with.”

Angry, hot tears stung Will’s eyes. Even his own body was betraying him. “My actions? After all the shit you’ve put me through, you have the audacity to blame this on me?”

Hannibal cocked his head to the side as a hawk would study a field mouse. “Yes.”

Will pulled a fistful of his own hair, gritting his teeth in irritation and disbelief. “You tried to have my family killed!” He hissed, closing the distance between them in a few hurried strides. The other man didn’t budge.

“You framed me, stabbed me, left me for dead. Oh, and let‘s not forget that lovely reunion back in Florence.” He continued, with a barking laugh. “You killed my friends. Beverly… Abigail...” 

Before he had a chance to react, Will found himself pinned between a tree and a very angry Hannibal, long vice-like fingers painfully twisting his arm to hold it above his head. He looked down and only then did he notice the hatchet in the other hand, lowered at Hannibal’s side but in the same white-knuckle grip.

“Do not speak to me of betrayal.” The words dripped with venom, pointed and caustic.

Lightning cracked the sky above them and the rains came, cold and instantly drenching the pair despite the sheltering trees. Will could feel the deep rumbling before he even heard it, and it took him a moment to realize that it was thunder and not the man towering over him. 

They stayed like that for a long time, neither sure of how to proceed. Will only stared, unafraid, not because he was brave or had confidence that Hannibal wouldn’t kill him right then and there, but because he had no fight left in him. However this played out, he was resigned to his fate. Eventually, Hannibal backed off and even in the rain it looked as though his lips trembled. He dropped the hatchet.

The rustling of wet dead leaves drew their attention off to the side of the small clearing in which they stood. Will’s eyes grew large as a scrawny, sickly little creature emerged from the underbrush, covered in burrs and shivering. It blinked large yellow eyes, squinting in the downpour, followed by a plaintive meow. The tiny tortoiseshell sat watching them, obviously malnourished and abandoned. 

“It was probably someone’s pet.” Will said, more to himself than anyone in particular. He was just about to approach the feline, to scoop it up into his arms and take it into the warmth of the cabin when something went whizzing by his head. He jumped back in time to see the hatchet embedded in a tree just behind the cat, perhaps two feet above it. It immediately retreated back into the undergrowth.

If he had been angry before, Will was now practically frothing at the mouth. Hannibal gave him an unimpressed look and in return Will shoved him hard, in just such a way so that he fell backwards over a nearby fallen log and into the thorny tangle of a dead blackberry bush. Will began the short trek back to the cabin alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh yeah he totally didn't intend to hit Will or the cat. I just imagine Hannibal's version of a hissy fit would be throwing deadly weapons and eating people. Things in the first two chapters were getting a little too fluffy for me so I wanted to add a bit of *~conflict~*. Next chapter should, hopefully, be out tonight as I'm currently working on it now.
> 
> Also I'm aware that even burner phones can be traced. That'll be addressed, promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will flips shit. Hannibal redeems himself for being a dick. Poignant sex happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell one from another  
> Did I find you, or you find me?  
> There was a time  
> Before we were born  
> If someone asks, this is where I'll be
> 
> \- This Must Be The Place, Talking Heads

Will sat on the edge of their shared bed, head between his knees and trying his best to keep from hyperventilating. The roof was leaking, drips hitting the floor like a dozen metronomes all around him but he didn’t seem to notice. The phone lay in ruins at his feet, smashed into oblivion with the rock they sometimes used to prop open the door on days when the breeze was still. Upon arriving back at the cabin, still manic from his encounter with Hannibal in the forest, the wheels of his mind had begun to turn once more as he pondered over Chiyoh’s absence. 

What if she’s been caught? He’d thought, eyeing the cheap plastic phone on the bed. She could have been detained days ago and they’d never know it; they had no television, no way to connect to the internet. For all he knew, Jack Crawford was working with the cell phone service provider at that very moment to narrow down their whereabouts. And so, he’d destroyed it, and in doing so cut their one and only line of communication with the woman. 

He wasn’t sure if it actually helped anything, but he felt better for having done so. The brief sense of relief, however, quickly gave way to a frenzied panic as he wondered if he had done the right thing. If Hannibal would be angry with him. Or, even more angry, he supposed. The man still hadn’t returned as the storm raged on, and he was beginning to worry. Had he hit his head when Will pushed him? Maybe he’d slipped in the mud and fallen down an embankment, breaking a leg? His stomach churned in anxious indecision and he stood up, unable to sit idle any longer. He was just getting ready to leave when he heard the wooden stairs to the front door creak and strain.

Hannibal stumbled inside, cold, soggy and lacking any of his usual grace. His arms were clutched loosely around his midsection and Will went to him at once.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?” He questioned but Hannibal just shook his head with a suspiciously pleased expression. He seemed content and calm and Will immediately took a step back, just to be safe. 

Hannibal frowned at the retreat, genuinely saddened by Will‘s sudden mistrust of him. Without saying a word he went to the bed and carefully laid something there, something black with mottled streaks of white and orange fur and Will realized that this was the closest thing to an apology he would likely ever get out of the other man. The cat blinked at them once and yawned, obviously exhausted, and curled into a ball within the warm bedding. 

Will’s heart swelled and he threw himself into Hannibal’s arms, whispering a mantra of muffled thanks you’s into the man’s chest. Hannibal held him tightly and kissed his temple, lips lingering there for a moment.

“Um. What happened to the phone?” He asked, no trace of anger in his voice, only bewilderment. 

Will chuckled nervously and pulled away, scratched the back of his neck. He explained his thought process behind the decision, about the possible threat the phone was to them. To his surprise, Hannibal only nodded along to the explanation. 

“That’s good and all, but you know that we will now have to leave soon. Either that or starve to death.” He said.

Will sighed. He’d had enough turmoil and anxiety for one day. “Admit it, you’re more worried about running out of toiletries than food and water. I saw you eyeing the last stick of deodorant this morning. The look of sheer horror on your face was priceless.”

Hannibal laughed at that. “Yet another incentive to leave. But we will worry about that in the morning.”

Will smirked, returning his attention to the cat. “Go clean yourself up while I tend to our visitor. I’ll be waiting.” He blushed slightly at the huskiness in his voice on the last part and coughed. 

At that, Hannibal hurriedly retreated into the tiny bathroom and shut the door. For as horrible as the cabin was, it was a damn miracle that the thing had running water. Well water, but still a luxury in their current situation. Then again, of course it did, as he could not for the life of him imagine Hannibal Lecter agreeing to stay somewhere he could not bathe.

As Hannibal showered, Will opened the chimney flue and started a fire. Although they had some dry firewood, they hadn’t yet actually used the fireplace as it had been much too hot during their stay. He situated the cat on a pillow and blanket near the warm hearth, where she stayed put, either out of comfort, exhaustion, or just fear, he wasn’t sure. But the little creature seemed content as he picked the ticks from her mangy body, pausing to scratch her chin and praise her for her patience. He opened a can of tuna and put some water in a shallow bowl and left them on the floor before her, pushing the offerings closer when she still seemed disinterested. He furrowed his brow at that.

Will had just finished placing as many pots and pans and whatever else he could find that would hold water around the cabin to catch the leaks in the ceiling. As he cleaned up the watery mess, lightning hit somewhere close outside, followed by a rattling roll of thunder. Will snickered at the thought of Hannibal getting electrocuted in the shower, after everything they’d been through. 

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, clad in only a white towel and his clothes folded over an arm, an obscene amount of steam rolling out behind him. He made the most mundane of actions seem so dramatic. He placed the dirty, mud-caked shirt and slacks in the sink and Will pretended not to stare at the way his hand barely held onto the towel at his hip, the way the fresh white gauze of the new bandage contrasted nicely against the complexion of his skin. 

“So.” Hannibal said, lowly, expectantly. “Your thoughts?”

Will looked up from his spot on the floor, fingers kneading the scruff of the cat’s neck. “I like the name Dinah.” He said, trying not to laugh at Hannibal’s crestfallen expression. The smaller man had been the instigator in most of their encounters and he still felt somewhat ruffled by the whole hatchet thing, so he played coy. 

Hannibal made a tisking sound. “Perhaps we should not name it just yet.”

“It’s a she. All tortoiseshell and calico cats are female.”

“Uh, right.” Hannibal sighed, taking a seat on the bed. “What I mean to say is, it’s… she doesn’t look so good. Maybe you shouldn’t get too attached.”

Will pouted at that. He knew it to be true but the thought of someone abandoning an animal like that, it absolutely crushed him. She deserved to be comfortable, to feel loved even if she only had a short time left. Just like anyone else. His eyes met Hannibal’s and he wondered the same; how much time did they have left?

Will rose to his feet, brushed the dust from his pants. He tried his best to saunter over to the bed, although it was more like a stilted walk. He stood before the seated man, arms crossed.

“Took you long enough.” He said. “Probably used up whatever water we had left. We won’t be able to wash our cloths or drink tomorrow but at least you got your thirty-minute shower in.”

Hannibal snorted a laugh and rested his hands on the other man’s hips, pulling him closer. He seemed to find great amusement in Will’s sassier nature these days. 

“I had to dig all those thorns out of my backside, thanks to you. A laborious, time-consuming process. I would have very much appreciated your help.”

“I think you would have enjoyed that a little too much.” Will chortled. His expression grew somber then as he ran his hands through Hannibal’s wet-slick hair, pushing it away from his face to better see his eyes and the dramatic angles of his bone structure. 

“Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.” He mimicked Bedelia’s calm monotone, finger tracing the faint scar on Hannibal’s right cheek. 

Feverish hands were working their way up and under his shirt now, feeling along the musculature there as if attempting to memorize every dip, every groove. The garment was coaxed over his head and he lifted his arms, knocking his glasses askew, too-long hair in his eyes. Hannibal removed the glasses, placed them on the cardboard box they had been using as a night stand, and pulled the other man down onto his lap. Knees planted firmly on the bed, Will pressed the side of his face to Hannibal’s and held him close, savoring the contact, committing the moment to memory. Every sound, every touch, every smell. Their future remained uncertain and if it were to be their last night together, he wanted to keep it locked in his memory palace for as long as he knew how, where he could visit it whenever his life grew dull and his heart turned cold. 

That night was different. There was no hurry, no struggle for dominance. Instead of pinning him to the bed as he usually did, Hannibal laid on his back, watching, admiring as Will rode him like a whore, like he’d been doing it for years. Fingers, those which had taken so many lives in the past, traced the outlines of Will’s body, counted his ribs, the network of scars. His lover’s somber mood had not been lost on him. 

The dying firelight cast a warm glow on Will’s pale flesh, slick with perspiration and wrapped in shadow. His mouth was slack, heavy-lidded sapphire eyes seeming to emanate their own light in the dying embers. He moved slowly, agonizingly so, hands twisted in the sheets to steady himself. 

Hannibal kneaded at the flesh of his muscular thighs that flexed as their momentum increased. Will bit his lip, long dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he screwed his eyes shut, face flushed. He came then, with a grunting cry, but continued to impale himself again and again until the other was also brought to completion. 

When he collapsed on top of Hannibal, his arms like jelly and legs numb, there were no quips, no witty remarks. Will just listened as the strong arms made their way around his body, hands stroking the curve of his spine. Hannibal kissed him and he just listened and laid there, head on Hannibal’s rising and falling chest as he caught his breath, the sweet throb of another heartbeat against his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a big project coming up this week so it might be a few days before I can post again, which is why I wanted to get this chapter out as quickly as possible. Thank you again for your kind words! It's rare that I share my writing so it truly means the world to me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *horny cannibal noises*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like 75% of this fic is just straight up smut, which is pretty much what I had in mind when I started. This week has been particularly brutal for me in terms of school work but I felt like writing at least something, without having to worry about the story line so much, so uh here's a gratuitous sex scene! Yay! 
> 
> Also I apologize in advance for any typos. I've been awake since 3am so I'll come back and fix whatever mistakes I've made later. 
> 
> Once again thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement. I'm not that confident in my writing, especially when it's this over-the-top, but it's cool to be able to share it with you guys.

Dust motes floated lazily through a stray sunbeam leaking through the shuttered window, pale and cold in the gray misty morning. Although the storm had long ceased, droplets of water still fell sporadically from the deteriorating ceiling, hitting the strategically placed pots and pans below in a strangely soothing and melodic way. 

Will stretched and mumbled something nonsensical about letting the dogs outside, still half asleep, when he found himself on his side, pressed against a scarred, tanned back. His lips brushed the nape of the man’s neck, kissing along the top few vertebrae of his spine. Hannibal stirred, a warm smooth hand reaching out blindly under the covers to grasp Will’s, which seemed rough and small in comparison. He leaned forward, mouth to Hannibal’s ear, breathing a soft puff of air against the outer shell. The other man tensed up, hackles raised, and Will couldn’t help but chuckle; he’d found out early in their new relationship that the older man was quite particular about having his ears messed with. His muscles would go rigid, and he would cringe as goose bumps formed up and down his arms. It obviously made him incredibly uncomfortable, maybe not the action itself but the fact that Will was so aware of what it did to him. It was one of the little things that made him seem human, perhaps even normal but never mundane. Peel back the layers, the theatricality and sheer weight of his presence, and he was just a mortal man, so unlike the thing Will had often dreamt about all those years ago, all burnt-paper skin and grotesquely twisted antlers. The face, though, that remained quite unchanged.

During their time together in total isolation from the outside world, Will slowly managed to uncover more quirks about Hannibal, his Hannibal. Not the psychiatrist, the surgeon, the chief, the serial killer, but the man beneath the many masks. The inquisitive, powerful, surprisingly childish at times, brooding, violent, tender, manipulative bastard lying prone in his arms. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t feel privileged to be in such a position, to truly see him. 

Will pulled him close to his chest then, arm around his middle and Hannibal’s fingers encircled his wrist as he pushed back in invitation. This was something new, something they had not yet experienced and Will could feel himself growing hard. His heart throbbed in both excitement and uncertainty.

Will’s free hand inched downward to touch him, nails scrapping a path along his abdomen. The tips of his fingers barely grazed the already-firm member, eliciting a soft grunt of impatience. Hannibal was grinding against him now, head turned so that Will could just barely see the corner of his eye, studying him. 

“You want this?” Will murmured, giving him a few firm pumps, mouth pressed to Hannibal’s ear. When the other didn’t respond, he nipped the sensitive lobe, not hard but enough to make the other gasp and Will grinned against his neck. He was usually the more vocal of the two.

Hannibal growled, arching back again so that the tip of Will’s dick pressed at his entrance. The younger man placed a hand under his knee, hiking up his leg and stilling his movements. Prior to fucking him, Hannibal was always sure to properly prepare Will beforehand, slicked up fingers prodding and stretching him until he was a writhing begging mess. But if Hannibal wanted to be an impatient brat, then Will was happy to oblige him.

At first the warmth and the tightness, the very thought that he was inside Hannibal, made his head swim. The other man hissed through his teeth, clutching at Will’s forearm, the one still wrapped around his rib cage. 

For a moment Will panicked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hannibal pushed back in reply, shook his head. “No.” He leaned back, twisting around just enough so that their lips met for the briefest of moments. 

Will rutted against him, forehead pressed to Hannibal’s shoulder. He felt clumsy and undeserving of such a gift, but Hannibal was panting and moaning, clawing at his forearms. He cried Will’s name over and over again like some sordid mantra, sobs muffled by the bedding. Will had never seen the man like this, so exposed and undone. It drove him wild. He twisted his fingers in Hannibal’s hair and pulled him back so that he could kiss him, rough and hungry. Hannibal came for him then, his nails drawing blood where they dug into the meat of Will’s thigh. With the muscles contracting around him, tightening and milking him dry, it didn’t take him long to finish as well. He was left unraveled, still buried inside the pulsing hot body before him, vision dark at the edges.

As his senses returned to him, a sick wave of anxiety hit Will. Hannibal hadn’t so much as moved an inch; he just laid there with his back to him as his breathing returned to normal, the painful grip on his leg growing slack. He pulled out, gently as he could, and finally Hannibal sighed. It almost sounded sad.

“Are you alright?” He asked, touching his shoulder, calloused thumb moving in what he hoped were comforting circles. 

“Yes.“ Hannibal let out a throaty little laugh and Will could see him hug the pillow nearest to him. “I’m more than alright.”

Will released a drawn out sigh in relief, flopping down to spoon behind the other man. His mind still felt fuzzy and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the afterglow. He’d never felt so frustrated before, tangled in a web of so many conflicting emotions that he could not even begin to comprehend. 

What the hell was Hannibal to him? He cared a great deal for the man and would do anything for him, would follow him to the very edges of the earth if need be, that much was brutally obvious. But did he love him? He supposed he did in some capacity, in his own way, as much as people like them could love another. They were dependent on one another; he knew he couldn’t live without him and that absolutely terrified Will to his core. So what were they, really? Friends seemed much too casual, and Will couldn’t for the life of him imagine referring to Hannibal as his boyfriend. It seemed so silly, so juvenile. What they had was something deeper, achingly beautiful yet filled with unpredictable horrors. Horrors that would undoubtedly take his life one day.

Like the ocean, Will thought as the other man rolled over onto his back to stare up at him with a content, sated huff. His dark eyes held a rare warmth, heavy-lidded in the daylight. Will bent down to kiss him. Softly, this time.

Like the ocean. At least that made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know that Hannibal loves Will. I think Will loves him in return but has a harder time coming to terms with it.
> 
> Also I know that anal sex can be freaking horrible if there isn't lube and some precaution taken beforehand. But Hannibal is like a wizard idk maybe he's got like a butt of steel or something. And now that I'm ranting about buttsex I think it's time for bed. Night guys!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murder husbands encounter some complications and take it out on each other because neither knows how to act like a normal, functional human being. Butthurt galore. There's a cat thrown in there somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's this song called Horror Of Our Love by Ludo and I can't help but think "holy shit this is literally about Hannibal and Will" every time I hear it. 
> 
> "I'm a killer, cold and wrathful  
> Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom  
> I've murdered half the town  
> left you love notes on their headstones  
> I'll fill the graveyards until I have you.  
> Moonlight walking, I smell your softness  
> carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines.  
> I want you stuffed into my mouth  
> hold you down and tear you open, live inside you -  
> love, I'd never hurt you.  
> But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix  
> I will eat you slowly"
> 
> Anyway yeah I had a lot of trouble getting this chapter out, as it's transitioning into the next part of the story, where new characters will be introduced along with a new setting. And mo' problems. I get a thrill out of torturing them because it makes the make-up sex that much better. 
> 
> This chapter should have a warning for melodrama and possibe OOC-ness. Although the latter is hard to say, since we really have no frame of reference for how Hannibal and Will would react in this kind of situation. I just like the idea of Hannibal losing that "everything I do works out in my favor no matter what" vibe. Ok I'll shut up now

Hannibal had been the first to notice. The couple were still in bed, Will laying on his stomach and Hannibal on his side facing him, discussing their dwindling supplies, shortage of food, and the quickly deteriorating state of the already poorly constructed cabin. 

“Perhaps we could set a few traps, I…” Hannibal trailed off, eyes flicking down towards the foot of the bed. Will followed his line of sight and his face lit up.. A pair of triangular, pointy black ears poked just above the edge of the bed. They twitched and rotated at the various sounds of the room. 

Will crawled to the bottom of the bed to see the petite tortoiseshell cat looking up at him from the floor with large, unblinking yellow eyes. 

“Well good morning, Dinah.” He cooed, leaning down to pick her up. To his surprise she didn’t attempt to flee or tense up as he held her to his chest. Instead, she was pliant, like a rag doll. Definitely domesticated, he thought. Her fur was dry now, soft against his bare skin. She didn’t look as mangy as the night before but still needed to gain a good bit of weight before he would deem her to be in good health. The canned tuna had been at least partially consumed sometime during the night, as had the water. Will grinned brilliantly at that.

“Such a good girl.” He said, kissing the top of the cat's head. The feline sniffed at his face, her damaged whiskers tickling his nose, and she began to purr so loudly that her tiny body vibrated with the action.

“Hannibal.” Will whispered urgently, “Hannibal, look.”

“Yes.” The other man sniffed from behind him, “Lovely.”

Will rolled his eyes. He’d never taken Hannibal to be much of an animal-lover, unless he was actually eating said animal, and only then if it was some variety of scarce, over-priced cured pork imported from a very specific region of Spain or something else as equally ridiculous. 

“I wonder how long she’s been sitting there.” Will mused.

Hannibal chuckled at that. “Long enough , I’m sure. The poor thing is probably traumatized.”

The bed groaned under the shifting of weight as Hannibal got up and began to get dressed. He pulled on a pair of worn black slacks, grimacing when all he could find was a mismatched rust-red cotton shirt to pair it with. After securing food, water, and a safe place for the two of them, a new wardrobe would be at the top of his list of priorities.

“Enjoy playing with your cat. In the nude.” He said in a sing-song, derisive tone as he bent to lace his boots, “I’m going to see about setting those snares. Perhaps we could catch something.”

Will’s stomach growled at him as if on command. “Roasted rabbit would be a nice alternative to our nightly ramen.” 

Hannibal wrinkled his nose at the thought of another meal of sad mushy noodles and dehydrated flavor packets. “Most definitely.”

“Wait.” Will called after him, setting Dinah on the bed, “I’ll go with you. Give me a second.”

After quickly dressing, he went to the sink to get something to drink before heading out. But when he turned the tap, what came dribbling out was discolored and foul smelling, even more than usual. 

“Ehhh.” Will said, turning to show Hannibal the cloudy, brownish glass of water. “Think it has something to do with the storm last night?”

Hannibal sighed inwardly. Just one more issue to add to their quickly mounting pile of problems. “Possibly. We’ll have a look.”

They grabbed a handful of supplies: a roll of wire, a few granola bars and beef jerky, a multi-tool that had proven to be most useful during their stay, and most precious of all, one of their few remaining two-liter bottles of water. Hannibal also took it upon himself to bring along the fire poker and a machete that had been there prior to their arrival. Neither mentioned the missing hatchet. 

“Be good while we’re away!” Will called to the cat in an intentionally obnoxious manner. who sat on the bed like a loaf of bread. “Daddy will be back soon.” 

Hannibal groaned so loudly that it startled a group of robins from the nearby tree.

According to Hannibal, the well was just a short distance off from the cabin. Will had never actually seen the thing, as he had been too incoherent, too exhausted to explore the space while Chiyoh had still been there. She had been the one to make preparations, to make sure the space would be livable for the two of them during their stay. Expecting to see the stereotypical stone and mortar well protected by a circular wooden cover, Will was surprised when Hannibal led them to what looked like a small rusted tube poking out of the ravaged earth, barely visible amongst the rocks, tree branches, and other debris from the storm that littered the area.

Hannibal knelt down, brushed the dead leaves and rubble from the pump, and cursed to himself in a language Will didn’t understand. Rising to his full height, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What is it?” Will asked, crouching down. 

Hannibal was at his side then. He ran a finger over a section of the metal tubing close to the ground, tracing a small crack in the rusted side. It was thin but deep, and Will could clearly see the surrounding mud slowly snaking its way inside. 

“Must’ve been hit by a rock or something. All that runoff from the rain...” He muttered, combing fingers through his tangled hair. 

Instant impending doom hit him. The damaged well changed everything. Without a reliable source of clean water, they were shit out of luck. Will recalled four bottles back at the cabin, plus the one they had brought with them. By his estimates that would last them a few days at most, and that was only if they rationed it carefully. They needed to leave, and soon.

“Tomorrow night, then. We’ll need the cover of darkness” Hannibal said suddenly, as if reading his mind. He stood rigid and unmoving, his sight focused on the minuscule fracture in the well pump. For some reason his posture reminded Will of a vulture, all sharp angles and cold, dark eyes.

Will clenched his jaw and nodded. “I’ll start packing up. Only the necessities. We should travel light.” 

His stomach churned. This is it, he thought, letting out a shaky groan of dread despite himself. He felt a strong hand briefly grip his shoulder as Hannibal brushed past him, heading deeper into the woods. 

“I’ll tend to the snares.” He said in a monotone voice.

He halted, then turned to face the younger man, fingers twitching at his sides. His expression softened, eyes shifting back to the warm brown Will had become so accustomed to. The people-mask slipped for just a moment, just long enough to see the fear and vulnerability there. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if readying himself.

“I promise,“ Hannibal began, noticeably struggling to find the right words, “As long as I can… As long as I’m here, no harm will come to you.” 

And with that he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, down a deer trail carved into the sloping terrain, the bag of supplies slung across a broad shoulder, machete in hand.

Will watched the retreating figure for a long while, long after he couldn’t see it anymore, his breaths coming in panicked huffs. He counted to ten in his head, eyes screwed shut and focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out. A few moments later his pulse slowed to a more manageable pace. 

Hannibal was visibly scared. The foreignness of such a notion left Will aghast. 

He hurried back to the cabin and immediately began sorting through supplies, his movements frantic and without reason, emptying bags and going through their contents. He knew they wouldn’t be leaving for at least another twenty-four hours, but his mind was racing and he needed to keep himself preoccupied. 

Dinah rubbed against his leg as he sat on the floor, folding cloths. Will smiled sadly and picked her up, flipping her over so that she was laying on her back in his arms, orange and white mottled belly exposed as she stared up at him, little black paws curled tight against her body. A fleeting calmness washed over him like a cool breeze, momentary yet satisfying

He couldn’t just leave her out here to fend for herself. Besides the elements, there were predators lurking in these woods, coyotes and other creatures that wouldn’t mind making a meal out of a cat. A mesh, navy gym bag caught his eye. Lightweight, with tiny holes throughout its surface and a rigid bottom.

“You’re coming with us.” He decided then and there, letting the cat down next to him, where she sat watching for the next twenty minutes or so as he continued to pack and fuss. Hannibal would not be pleased, but by this point Will didn’t really care all that much. He’d already abandoned so many things in his life for the other man, he didn’t have it in him to do it again, not now. 

Hannibal returned just before sundown, dirty and weary. He’d sliced open his hand while preparing wire for one of the traps.

“The wire cutter slipped.” He explained, speech curt and hollow, as Will cleaned the wound. It wasn’t deep but the location, across the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, would make it troublesome in the days to come.

They sat next to the little table in the kitchenette on two fold-out chairs across from one another, close enough so that the back of Hannibal’s damaged hand rested on Will’s knee as he tended to it.

“You must have been distracted.” Will wondered aloud, a peculiar sharpness in his tone, swabbing the cut with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. “Was your mind off somewhere else, perhaps?” 

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched. When he didn’t answer, Will wiped the tender spot again with more force in an attempt to get some kind of reaction. It worked.

“What do you want me to say?” The older man snarled, ripped his hand out of Will’s grasp. “That we’re going to die, is that what you want to hear? That if we are identified, we are more likely to be shot on sight than to be taken into custody?”

He rose to his feet and lurched towards the bed with heavy, exhausted steps. Will followed him, helped him remove his shirt. He needed to wash it for tomorrow night. If anyone saw them, clean clothing would at least make them a bit less conspicuous. But then he remembered the broken pump and tossed the shirt to the floor, stalking back towards the sink. The cat circled his legs.

“Why the abrupt change of heart, Will?“ Hannibal continued, sitting on the bed, “Do you suddenly care for my well being, or yours, for that matter? We wouldn’t be stranded out here in the first place if it wasn’t for you. For your stupid fucking actions.”

Will peered at him from over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. He had never heard Hannibal curse before. The word sounded so strange rolling off the tongue of someone who usually spoke with such eloquence. He couldn’t help but snort a laugh to himself. 

Hannibal was leaning forward, head down, his body rocking back and forth slightly as he took deep, heaving breaths. His short hair was just beginning to grow out, bangs nearly reaching his eyes now. 

Cautiously, Will padded across the room, with as much care as one would use to approach a wounded, panicked animal. He grabbed the roll of gauze and medical tape from the table. He sat down next to Hannibal on the bed and gingerly took his bloodied hand into his own, turning it palm-side up, allowing it to rest on his leg. Hannibal didn’t look up.

“People do foolish things when they’re afraid.” Will said quietly. “The unknown is a scary place to be. It makes us panic. Fight or flight, y’know? And then, sometimes, we end up hurting those we care about, when really all we ever wanted was to save them. Even if that means saving them from themselves.”

The other man straightened his posture, his back cracking with an audible pop. He watched as Will wrapped the gauze around his hand, delicately and gentle this time. When he was finished, he taped it firmly in place. The injured appendage remained in his lap.

“Is that too tight?” He asked. Hannibal shook his head, finally meeting his gaze. 

He was completely drained, unkempt and empty. A smattering of tiny cuts from a day in the overgrowth covered his cheeks and forehead, the lines under his eyes deeper than normal. He hadn’t shaved in at least two days and Will could see the gray in his beard, just below his lower lip. This Hannibal, dirty and feral and alarmingly indecisive in his actions, was so unlike the pristine, suit-clad monster Will remembered back in Baltimore.

“I think we can agree that we have both had our fair share of fearful foolishness.” Hannibal said in a hushed tone, as if he were afraid that someone outside would overhear the almost-confession. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting any of his past wrongdoings, owning up to the destruction left in his terrible wake.

Will licked his lips and nodded. He touched the back of Hannibal’s neck, fingers kneading at the tense knot of muscles there. The other leaned into the contact, tired burning eyes sliding shut in a moment of indulgent weakness. He allowed his head to rest heavily on Will’s shoulder and opened his mouth as if he were about to say more. All that escaped was a small noise of defeat between parted, chapped lips.

“We’ll find a way, we always do.” Will whispered into Hannibal's hair, trying his best to sound reassuring. He held him close, suddenly remorseful for the earlier prodding. He ran a hand along the curve of his spine, the skin there smooth and cool like river stones. “We’ve gotten ourselves out of deeper shit in the past. Or at least you have. I’m usually unconscious for one reason or another.”

He chuckled at that but Hannibal didn’t speak, didn’t move anything besides his hand, the one still resting on Will’s knee. His index finger absentmindedly traced invisible patterns into the worn fabric of his blue jeans. If Will hadn’t known any better, he’d say that Hannibal Lecter was pouting.

The shorter of the two leaned away, hands going to the others face. He lifted Hannibal’s head so that he could see his eyes. They stared up at him through blond eyelashes, lacking any of the animosity from earlier. Hannibal’s rage had burned out of him, leaving him exhausted but also docile, like a tranquilized animal at the zoo.

Will kissed him, soft lips brushing against his cheekbones, the high aquiline nose. Their foreheads touched and he could feel Hannibal’s hands find their way into his hair.

“I’m sorry.” Will breathed, voice cracking under a swell of emotion, “For everything.” He felt like he was drowning.

“It’s just that this,” He continued, thumbs brushing against the warm flesh in his hands, “This scares the hell out of me, always has. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don't know where we’ll be a week from now, or if we’ll even still be alive by then. But I’m certain of one thing, and it gives me some hope: that this is where I need to be. Regardless of what happens, I’m with you.”

They sat like that for a long time in the stillness of the night, side by side, readying themselves for whatever fate may throw their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Google history is all "HOW WELLS WORK", "DAMAGED WELL PUMPS", "WHAT DO MODERN WELLS LOOK LIKE" because I legit had no clue. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for how long the next chapter may take. Shouldn't be more than a week, possibly some time next weekend. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys. I'm giving a thumbs up like The Fonz even though you can't see it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal acts like a creepy shit. Will worries about all the things. They set off on an epic smelly, man-musky journey through backwoods West Virginia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. This chapter seems to jump around a bit so I apologize if it's confusing in any way. 
> 
> Also, off-topic comment, but I watched After The Wedding with my mom the other night and it was SO GOOD and Mads is SO ADORABLE in it. I give it four and a half Miriam Lass arms out of five.

The dawn seemed to come sooner than Will would have liked. He groaned, eyes fluttering against the assaulting sunbeams. There was a peculiar weight on his chest but in the blinding light he couldn’t see what was causing it. A rough, wet tongue licked his chin, followed by a purr in greeting. Probably not Hannibal then, he thought with a smirk, giving the cat a scratch under her chin. 

Hannibal. Will reached out, groping at the cold empty space next to him. Where the hell did he run off to? He swung his legs around to hang over the side of the bed, grinding the sleep from his eyes with a fisted hand. It was uncommonly cool and foggy that morning, even for early March. Not being familiar with the area, however, Will really had no frame of reference. 

The night before, once they had finally wound down and decided to crawl into bed, Hannibal spoke to him, his voice sounding far away in the engulfing darkness. 

He explained that they were situated in the Northwestern region of West Virginia, right along the border between it and Ohio. It was quite rural, he’d said, his words delicate and precise like rain. Chiyoh had obviously done a good bit of research on the area prior to their arrival.

“West Virginia? I thought we were further South than that.” Will muttered anxiously, “We might as well be camping out in Jack Crawford‘s backyard.”

“Precisely.” Hannibal said, and Will could hear the smile there.

“They surely expect us to flee the country. I imagine Jack inquiring about Il Monstro sightings in Italy right about now. Who would be foolish enough to linger so closely to the location of their last known whereabouts? As they say, the closer we are to danger, the further we are from harm.”

The nearby town was small and quaint, he said, so they would have to take special care to remain inconspicuous while procuring supplies. Will wondered aloud if it was a good idea to go there at all, as strange outsiders would surely draw attention, but Hannibal reassured him that they had actually been quite lucky in their timing; Chiyoh had divulged to him that the oil and gas industry had taken a recent interest in the region, resulting in a surge of out-of-state workers. He and Will’s faces would be two of many in a sea of unknowns. Will frowned at that; it was just one more important piece of information the other man had kept from him for no reason other than the fact that, despite everything, he still got some thrill out of toying with him. He felt horribly betrayed, disappointed in his once again misplaced trust, but after their tumultuous night he hadn’t had it in him to start another argument. 

Not bothering to lace his boots, he crossed the threshold into the crisp morning, flannel jacket wrapped tightly around himself. He’d definitely lost a good bit of weight during their stay, they both had. Physically, they were shadows of their former selves, exhausted and still recovering from their wounds. He was not looking forward to their approaching nighttime trek down into the unknown.

“Good morning.” Came a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Will held out his hand, shielding his eyes from the sun. A sharp, metallic tang hung heavy in the air. 

Hannibal sat on a tree stump, hunting knife in hand, a triumphant toothy grin plastered across his face. With a wet ripping sound, he expertly separated the headless rabbit in his hands from its skin, discarding the inside-out pelt over his shoulder. One carcass already hung from a nearby tree, pale pink and disturbingly moist-looking as it drained into the pan set below. Will grimaced, the combination of glistening raw sinew and the smell of blood making his mouth water as if he were about to throw up. It was too early for this shit. 

Hannibal picked the rabbit up by its feet and stood, the creature’s limbs jostling limply with the movement as he collected the other. He strode towards the other man to stand at the bottom of the steps, holding up the dead animals with all the gusto of a little boy proudly showing his father a crayon drawing he’d made at school. Crusty crimson smeared his hands and forearms. There was some caked under his nails, even traces of it on his forehead and chin, and Will thought that maybe he was enjoying himself a little too much.

“And my efforts pay off.” He crowed with a coy little smirk, Will’s apparent disgust not lost on him. “I would suggest that you cook, since I was the one to catch them, but I wouldn’t want to risk the meat.”

Will crossed his arms. “Of course you’d mange to bag exactly two rabbits. How convenient.”

“It‘s really quite simple. One must only look for trails running through the grass; little bunny paths.” Hannibal said as he raised his catch closer to his face, and Will could see his nostrils flare for just a moment, surreptitiously sniffing at the bloodied remains. 

Will hadn’t considered the toll their isolation in the wilderness had taken on the state of their mental health. He knew Hannibal had been acting strangely the past few days, erratic and agitated. The image of a caged tiger pacing back and forth behind the bars of a cage came to mind.

“I can finish… preparing them.” Will offered with a noticeable tremor in his voice. He had gutted animals before, mostly fish, but he needed to defuse the situation, needed to distract Hannibal away from his prey.

It was hard to read his features. With his back to the East, the early morning rays shone through the ghostly mist surrounding him, leaving his face in shadow, eyes dark and impenetrable. He tilted his head to the side in what Will reckoned was amusement. 

“If you insist.” Hannibal said, extending his hand in offering.

Will took the rabbits. They still felt warm.

“Were they alive when you found them?” He asked.

“Yes. But not for long.” 

Will quickly got to work. Rabbits were supposedly quite easy to field dress, he’d remembered reading once. Cut off head, drain blood, skin, then remove organs. Most of the blood had already leaked out so it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had anticipated. Hannibal brought him a cutting board he’d found in one of the cabin’s cupboards, and an unopened bottle of water. 

When Will gave him a dirty look, Hannibal clarified that the meat would need to be rinsed in fresh, clean water if they intended on actually eating it.

Will sat on the ground, focused on his task at hand, the cutting board laid out before him. No, it really wasn’t all that different from preparing a fish, he thought. As he pulled the cluster of organs from the second rabbit, he paused to glance up at Hannibal, who stood over him, watching. 

“Do you… want to keep these?” He asked, holding the entrails out.

Hannibal’s nose twitched. He seemed to consider it but declined. “No.” He said, “I only care for offal when I have the proper means of preparing it.”

As Will washed the meat, pouring a liberal amount of water over the surface and into the cavity of each carcass, Hannibal built a campfire. Early in their stay, they had discovered - to Hannibal’s dismay - that both the oven and stove top in the cabin were useless. 

Soon the rabbits were skewed on sharpened sticks and roasting over the open flames. Hannibal turned them every so often, perhaps more than was necessary, but Will was glad that he was preoccupied for the time being. He had seemed to settle down, the beast within dormant once again. 

“They should be ready in about an hour, an hour and a half at most.” He said as he took a seat next to Will by the fire. 

“Good, I’m starving.” The other man admitted, hand on his aching empty stomach. It would be the first real meal they’d had in over a week, not counting the canned goods and protein bars and beef jerky they had been scrapping by on after the perishable food ran out. 

“As am I.” Hannibal said, “I’m grateful to be eating something other than those horrible instant noodles.” 

“Hey, they‘re still a far cry from the shit they served at the state hospital.” Will quipped, making the other man chuckle. 

“Most definitely.” He said.

Will grabbed a handful of grass, absentmindedly shredding the blades into little pieces as he thought of how to best broach the subject weighing on his mind.

“We need to talk.” He said, inwardly wincing at his choice of words.

Hannibal’s brow furrowed, his eyes leaving the fire for the first time to settle on him. He appeared surprisingly flustered, and Will almost felt guilty for the twinge of amusement it brought him.

“What’s on your mind?” Hannibal asked, seamlessly slipping back into his usual cool demeanor. He turned the rabbits again, even though he had already done so only moments before.

Will blurted it out, practically yelling, “I’m bringing the cat with us.”

“No.” Hannibal said, “Absolutely not.”

“Don‘t tell me what to do.” Will snapped, “I can’t just leave her out here.”

The other man picked at his fingernails, making a soft clicking sound. Will noticed the traces of red still there. 

“By my estimates our journey will take a total of four days to complete, depending on how quickly we move.” Hannibal said with a condescending calmness, “How exactly do you plan on carrying a cat for thirty miles?” 

“In a bag.” Will said as if it were obvious, “A gym bag. It has little holes in it and -”

Hannibal cut him off with a groan. “Fine.” He growled, “Take the damn thing. But don’t expect me to help.”

Will squeezed the other man's shoulder playfully, snickering. “I’m not the one who ran around chasing after her for two hours. During a downpour. In the dark.”

Hannibal snorted, eyes fixed on the hypnotic movement of the flames before them. 

“I didn't do it for the cat.” He said quietly. 

The meat was tender and light, almost like chicken if not for the gamey aftertaste. It pulled apart easily, coating Will’s fingers and lips in a thin, oily residue. They ate in silence, too preoccupied with devouring the spit-roasted rabbits to hold any kind of conversation. 

When he was finished, Will laid back on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. Belly full, he suddenly felt incredibly sluggish and drowsy. He glanced up at Hannibal. 

“You know,” He began, “They say rabbit is an aphrodisiac.” 

Hannibal turned to him. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Do they now?”

Will grinned bashfully, suddenly fixated on the untied laces of his boots. 

“Well if it is, it’s not a very good one.” He said, “Then again, it’s hard to feel sexy after not showering for two days.”

The other man snorted at that. “It’s only going to get worse, you know. Unless we happen to stumble across a bathtub along our journey, the best we can hope for is a stream.”

Hannibal continued, lips curling into a faint smile, “I’m sure the effects will take hold eventually, It’s only a matter of time. You are rather insatiable.”

“Me?” Will huffed out in disbelief, eyebrows raised, “You’re one to talk.”

Hannibal looked downward, tucking a loose lock of grayish hair behind his ear. He had gotten quite tan over the past few weeks, being out in the sun more than he was accustomed to. The older man was, admittedly, extremely easy on the eyes, Will thought to himself, although he would never actually say as much to his face. 

Hannibal caught him staring then, a sharp white grin nearly splitting his face in two. 

“Care to join me inside? Perhaps catch some shut-eye?” He purred, “It would be wise to rest a while before our departure.”

When Will didn’t respond, Hannibal stood, brushed the back of his pants, and made his way towards the cabin, a noticeable swagger in his step.

“I’m not having sex with you!” Will called after him, but there was no real conviction there. He followed soon after.

Hannibal’s nails raked down his back like talons, leaving angry red trails that welled with spots of blood. He seemed more prone to causing bodily harm whenever he was the one on the receiving end of things.

Will growled, thrusting into him with renewed vigor and the other man grunted, biting his lower, busted lip. Knees pressed nearly to his chest, he stared up at Will, an unbearably cocky little smile creeping across his face. 

They slept late into the afternoon. Or at least Hannibal did, dozing soundly with one flung haphazardly across Will’s back. The other man laid awake, gaze fixed on the sky through the dirty cabin window. He tried to sleep, to slow his breathing and count in his head but it was as if his eyelids refused to comply. He let out an exasperated breath. Even Dinah was napping, curled into a ball of fluff between the two of them.

When the time came they readied their supplies in silence, checking to see that everything was accounted for. Will spoke soft words of reassurance as he placed Dinah in her makeshift cat carrier, gently zipping the bag closed. He could feel Hannibal’s judgmental gaze burning into his back.

“Ready?” The other man said, holding the door open before him. A large bag was slung over each shoulder, the machete resting at his hip.

Will nodded. A hot sickness spread throughout his gut. The dread had returned tenfold, the day’s lunch threatening to return for an encore.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

The night air was like a soothing balm to his feverish skin. He peered up into the sky, inky blue and peppered with more stars than he had seen in a very long time. The moon hung low that evening, brilliant and near full. Will was grateful for the fair weather. Hannibal led the way, as he was a bit more familiar with the dangerous terrain and narrow trails cutting through the otherwise impenetrable forest. Even with the generous light of the moon, the woods were thick and the visibility poor. They had to take great care to keep balanced and mind their footing as the path had been nothing but downhill and they had been moving nonstop for a solid hour by that point. 

They stopped to rest near a large rock formation jutting out from the hillside. Will’s lower back ached horribly from the severe incline, every muscle in his legs and abdomen on fire. The trees were less dense here, the area better illuminated than the previous ones. Although, all he could really see was more of the treacherous rolling slope, more fucking vegetation. He made a mental note to check himself for ticks later.

“We’ll find a place to sleep before daybreak.” Hannibal panted next to him, the material of the gray shirt under his coat damp with sweat. “Hopefully we can find some dry, level ground between then and now.”

“That would be nice.” Will mumbled, examining Dinah’s current state through the mesh bag. She blinked at him. “Any thoughts on what we’ll do once we actually leave these god forsaken woods?”

Hannibal rubbed at his jaw, the scratching of his chin scruff making a dry, sandpaper kind of sound.

“We’ll go into town. Find food, hopefully a place to stay.” He said, “Chiyoh reported seeing entire lots of nothing but workers and their mobile homes. It shouldn’t be too difficult to secure something.”

Will grunted at that last part, obviously perturbed. 

“Do you ever get tired of being a shady asshole all the time?” 

He immediately wanted to knock the insolent leer from Hannibal’s stupid face 

“What ever do you mean?” He chortled.

“I just don’t understand. You knew from the very beginning exactly where we were. Why would you keep information like that to yourself?” 

Hannibal grew serious then, his smile fading. "It seemed trivial at the time."

"Trivial?" Will spat. "You and I seem to have vastly differing opinions on what constitutes as trivial. Your favorite color, the name of your first grade teacher, what you ate for fucking breakfast, that's trivial. This? Not so much."

Hannibal sniffed, his jaw clenching.

“I was... concerned you would leave, had you known our location.” He finally admitted, “That you would feel some foolish obligation to return to your fam -”

Will threw his hands up, cutting the other man off. He scrambled to his feet, legs wobbly.

“I need to use the restroom.” He sputtered, voice quavering like the tall swaying grass surrounding them. He jogged off a short distance, far enough away so that he didn’t think Hannibal would hear him, where he proceeded to empty the acidic contents of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my name's skiesinjuly and I'm the piece of fandom trash that just stuck a Lord of the Rings quote in a Hannibal fic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal continue along on their journey and are now stanky mountain men. Will thinks about his dogs and kind of has a nervous breakdown. There's some cuddling and my failed attempts at being funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter taking so freaking long. I'm in the middle of doing the content portfolio for my education classes plus working on my art show so I'm kind of a mess right now. 
> 
> This chapter is literally pure crack. There's probably quite a bit of OOC-ness (and fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF kill me) but Hannibal and Will are pretty delirious and totally out of their comfort zones by this point so... yeah.

The familiar whistling of wind in his ears transmuted into a chorus of unnatural screeching, the metal-on-metal grinding of ancient gears. Thorns caught and tore the flesh from his face as his sprinted through the forest, ribbons of meat littering the path behind him. He ran along the tunnel of dead trees, their gnarled limbs reaching out like grasping, skeletal hands in his periphery. Heart thundering in his chest, his entire body vibrated with fear and adrenaline as he ducked under branches and maneuvered around rocks. 

The mechanical cry, something no living thing could possibly produce, sounded against the back of his head, loud enough to make his vision go blurry for a moment. He chanced a quick glance over his shoulder and instantly regretted the decision. On impossibly long, spindly legs the creature gave chase, eerily graceful, its entire being made up of what looked like clusters and clusters of twisting blood vessels. The bleached stag skull that was its head grinned at him with too many teeth. 

His foot caught on something and he was sent tumbling face first into the loamy forest floor. The wind knocked from his lungs, he laid there stunned, flat on his back and gasping for air like a speared fish. 

No hope, he whimpered to himself as the thing closed in. Its stilt-like appendages picked cautiously through the dead leaves, soundless except for the static hum emanating from the pulsing mass of its body. A tangible darkness undulated inside the hollows of where its eyes should have been, darker than the surrounding shadows and filling him with a cold, suffocating terror. 

A thick, sinuous tongue snaked out from the jawless mouth. It lapped lazily at the blood oozing from his ravaged face, leaving a trail of viscous tar-like saliva. It burned just like the seawater had that night. 

Its grim white visage hovering so close to his own, he and the creature came to a mutual understanding then: his death would not be a quick one. This would be the cleansing of his sins. This would be his brutal atonement.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders and he lashed out blindly, flailing frantically at whatever was holding him.

“Will.” Came the plaintive cry, “Will!”

He sputtered as if he had been drowning, taking in huge gulps of air. He couldn’t breath and as his senses returned to him he realized that he was in the throes of a panic attack. 

Hannibal loomed over him, his expression contorted with worry. 

“Shh. It was only a dream.” He hushed him, pulling the other man into a desperate embrace. 

Will’s hands twisted in the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt as he struggled to regain his composure. He could feel himself being rocked back and forth, slender fingers stroking his forehead, his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, wishing he could burrow under his skin and into the warmth there. He smelled like earth and sweat.

“What did you see?” He asked, and Will could feel the vibration in his throat as he spoke. 

He pulled away, finally taking in his surroundings. The sky was overcast, stark white and blinding, and the forest had returned to its normal lush green state. Birds tittered in the canopy above. He exhaled long and slow.

He remembered the laborious trek the night before, how relieved he’d been upon finally reaching level ground, the way his body ached as he’d drifted off to sleep in the early morning light. He remembered their conversation, the secrets, and the mentioning of the life he had left behind. 

Hannibal went to cup a hand to his face but he swatted it away. The thought of the other man touching him any more than he already had, and the response it would undoubtedly elicit in him, made his stomach churn. The sting of betrayal still lingered along with the cloying guilt, a bittersweet diversion from the constant fear. He suddenly regretted allowing Hannibal to comfort him.

Will stood, wiped his nose with the sleeve of his flannel coat. 

“What did I see?”

That fleshy, caustic tongue came to mind, savoring his spilt blood in an obscene mockery of affection. The deafening static dulling his senses. The familiar tangle of antlers.

“I think it was you.” He said, his voice tired and hollow. He began to collect his things. 

He guessed it was around six o’clock when the rain began, just a gentle pattering at first. Hannibal had predicted its arrival long before it came, huffing at the air like some kind of animal. He didn’t even try to hide it anymore. Will wondered just how often he had used the peculiar gift in the past. 

Dinah yowled miserably in her bag. The sheer material was completely saturated by that point, her fur soaked. Will held it close to his chest in a vain attempt to block as much of the rain as possible. He tried to comfort her to no avail, offering food and what little water they had left.

“It wants out.” Hannibal grumbled. Will ignored him. 

They continued on for a while, the cat crying and fidgeting all the way until she was actively trying to escape the confines of the makeshift carrier, frantically biting and clawing at the fabric. Will gently lowered it to the ground, rainwater dripping from his hair and the tip of his nose. With a small cry of defeat he unzipped the duffle bag. The cat darted into the underbrush. 

Night soon fell and they proceeded along in silence. Will struggled to keep pace with Hannibal’s long strides and he swore the other man was trying to lose him. 

“Hey!“ He wheezed, “Slow down.”

Hannibal came to an abrupt stop, posture rigid and his eyes cold, but he paused long enough for Will to catch up before he continued on. 

Late that night, in the unrelenting downpour, they discovered the remains of a long forgotten deer blind. They salvaged what was left of the rotted plywood and hastily assembled a flimsy lean-to. They huddled together underneath, atop one of the spare planks. 

The town couldn’t be too far off, he thought anxiously. 

It rained harder. They didn’t speak. Will worried about Dinah. 

And then it was as if everything hit him at once, like a dam riddled with cracks finally giving way: the overall hopelessness of their situation, his wet squishy socks, the fucking cat, the bothersome sensation of the scar tissue pulling at the inside of his mouth, Molly and Walter, the fact that he could smell himself, his dogs. 

He completely lost it on that last one. He imagined the pack watching out the window, patiently waiting for a reunion that would never come, unsure of what they did to make him leave. 

Cold and hungry and guilt-stricken he started to cry, actually cried like he hadn’t in a long time. He crumpled into a ball, knees pulled to his chest and his head in his arms. Wretched sobs wracked his battered frame and he couldn’t recall ever feeling so weak, so small. His skull throbbed.

Will tried to say something but all that came out was a garbled, hiccuping mess. A pleasant warmth enveloped him as he was pulled towards the body seated next to him, lips pressed to his temple uttering soft words of comfort. He closed his eyes.

“You’re freezing.” Hannibal said, wiping the tears from his dirt-streaked cheeks. He began to remove Will’s coat. 

“We’ll need to do something about these wet cloths.” He explained.

Will nodded and allowed him to coax the sodden article off of him. Hannibal removed his own coat and wrung the two of them out as thoroughly as he could manage. He glanced around for a place to hang them but quickly gave up, seemingly too exhausted to care. He sat back against the tree supporting the lean-to and Will scooted closer, craving the closeness, the shared body heat. He crawled onto Hannibal’s lap, his aching head lolling limply to the side to rest on a broad shoulder. He wasn’t crying anymore. 

Hands stroked the length of his back and neck, soothing the tender muscles there and he felt like he was sinking. He peered up at Hannibal with bloodshot eyes.

“Sorry about that. I - “ He began but the other man cut him off.

“There’s no need to apologize.” 

Will sat up so that the two of them were eye level and kissed the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, his hands braced against the firm chest. 

“I kind of lost my head for a minute.” He breathed. The other man smiled faintly. 

“It’s understandable.” He said, motioning to their surroundings.

Will laid his head back down, his nose buried in the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt. 

“Dinah felt like a chance to redeem myself.” He mumbled, “Stupid, I know. She reminded me of my dogs. I miss them so much. I shouldn’t have let her go.”

He could tell Hannibal was biting his tongue then, fighting the urge to say I told you so, to tell him how foolish he had been to think he could possibly transport a cat through thirty miles of wilderness in a duffle bag. But instead he just held him, and the pattering of rain became comforting again, like he remembered in the time before the fall. 

Will dozed off, snoring against the warm body beneath him. There were no monsters that night, save for the one he had grown quite fond of.

He awoke before daybreak to the sound of Hannibal’s voice, speaking in what he could only describe as baby-talk. Jolted by the absurdity of such a notion, he bolted upright from where he’d been placed sometime in the night. The other man was holding something, something black and furry and definitely feline. He froze when he noticed Will gawking at him.

“Um.” He fumbled, looking more ragged than Will had ever seen him before, hair mussed and cradling a cat in his arms. It reminded Will of a nice homeless gentleman he used to converse with on his walks to class.

A lopsided grin spread across Hannibal’s face. “I was - quite rudely - awoken to someone pawing at my face this morning.” 

Dinah blinked at him, appearing rather unimpressed by the entire situation, and Will tried not to squeal like a little girl. He practically snatched the cat out of the other man’s grasp and she purred, sniffing at him. 

“Yeah, I know. I need a bath.” He said. Hannibal snorted in agreement.

“That makes two of us.”

Their coats were still damp but at least the rain had ceased. They changed into new cloths, also wet but still relatively clean despite the elements. It was early and already the day had grown quite warm. Will thought about taking off his shirt but decided against it, not wanting to smell himself anymore than he already could. He could only imagine Hannibal’s inner turmoil. They had one measly little stick of deodorant left, but by this point it was like applying a Band-Aid to a severed limb; laughably ineffective.

He felt bad about returning Dinah to the confines of the bag and so, as an experiment, he sat her on the ground to see what she would do. To his pleasant surprise she circled his legs, and continued to follow them as they began another day of walking. What an odd sight they must have made; an escaped cannibalistic serial killer, his supposed victim and/or accomplice, and their goddamn cat. The fact that they looked like two dirty vagrants didn’t really help.

“We should be getting close now.” The other man announced around noon. 

They reached a hollow, secluded from the surrounding area by steep slopes on either side, and the three of them stopped to eat what remained of the jerky. Hannibal had managed to catch some of the rainwater the night before using a cotton shirt, after Will had fallen asleep. He’d wrung it out into one of the empty plastic bottles and although it tasted oddly metallic, it wasn’t terribly unpleasant. 

Hannibal suddenly froze in his crouched position. He slowly lowered the bottle from his mouth and cocked his head to the side, listening.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Will said around a mouthful of dried beef.

The other man rose to his full height and turned to face the hill directly behind him, eyes fixed on the ridge. 

“Someone’s coming.” He said flatly, his hand resting on the handle of the machete.

Before Will even had time to stand, the top of a man’s head came into view over the hillside. For some reason his first thought was to grab the cat, but she had fled and was already halfway up a nearby tree. 

The stranger was tall and lanky and nearly as unkempt-looking as the two of them . From what Will could see he wasn’t at all amused by their presence. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He bellowed.

And he had a gun, because of course he did. Not what Will would expect a hunter to carry, either; he brandished a small black 9mm semi-automatic, holding it in the same sideways manner Jack used to critique him on.

Hannibal raised his hands, smiling this big stupid smile that Will had never seen before. 

“We wanted to go for a hike. Seems we got a little lost.” He said, lacking any hint of his usual accent. It was odd and stilted and reminded Will of a parrot mimicking back phrases it had heard in some vaguely Midwestern twang.

“Yeah. Right.” The man chuckled, “A hike.”

“Y-yeah. We were just passing through when we saw a cat up in this tree over here. I think it‘s stuck.” Will blurted out, taking a single tentative step forward. The man trained the gun on him.

“A cat? ” He asked, but not in a confused or angry way. "What's it look like? Where?"

He seemed genuinely concerned. Will and Hannibal exchanged puzzled sideways glances. 

“Right there.” Will said, pointing up into the tree where Dinah was perched watching them, her huge unblinking eyes making her appear very owl-like. 

The man on the hill squinted and then started to make his way down the slope. He kept the weapon pointed at the pair but remained focused on the cat as he neared the foot of the tree, his eyes going wide.

“Holy hell.” He breathed, scratching his head with the gun’s barrel. In any other situation, Will would have winced at that.

“So, uh, you two fuckers know this is private property, right?” The man said, pivoting around to face them. “You want me to believe that bullshit hiking story? Help me get the cat outta there and maybe I won’t kill ya. How’s that?”

“It’s a deal.” Hannibal said. He forced a smiled, although it was more of a baring of teeth.

The next thing Will knew he was being hoisted up into the foliage, Hannibal and the strange man giving him a generous push. He clung to a the nearest branch, still dangerously slick from the night before, until he could find his footing. He gave Hannibal a dirty look and the other man just shrugged. Will hadn’t had much say in the matter; he was the smallest of the three so the duty of cat-catcher went to him.

Dinah stared at him and in true asshole cat fashion, immediately scurried higher. 

This is why I prefer dogs, Will thought as he cautiously ascended. 

He pulled himself up onto the highest, sturdiest limb he could reach, panting from the exertion. 

“You should, like, talk to it or somethin'.” The man shouted from below. 

“Yeah no shit.” Will muttered under his breath as he smiled warmly, giving the guy a way too enthusiastic thumbs up with his free hand.

Dinah sat just barely out of reach, clinging to a thin branch that certainly wasn’t capable of holding his weight. She growled, her tail quickly swishing back and forth in agitation. 

“It’s okay.” He panted, gripping the branch holding him with one hand. 

He wedged his foot against the trunk, the other planted securely on the branch. He stretched, reaching out towards the distressed feline. She moved a little closer to smell his hand and he grabbed her by the scruff of the neck before she had a chance to flee again. She hissed and clawed at him, and he held her close to his chest, jaw clenched and fighting the urge to yell. Once she calmed down, or at least wasn’t trying to scratch his eyes out anymore, he began the daunting task of climbing back down. 

When he got to the lower tier of branches he passed the cat off to the waiting stranger, who bounced her up and down like a baby, grinning triumphantly. Hannibal helped him out of the tree. 

One arm around a very disgruntled Dinah, the man cocked the gun with an audible click. 

“So, you gonna tell me why you were snoopin’ around out here?” He hissed, looking like some Dollar Store James Bond villain, “Or what you were doin’ with the boss’s cat?”

Hannibal began, his words calm and even, “I told you, we were -”

“Your boss should learn to take care of his damn cat.” Will interjected. His eyes immediately grew in size. Hannibal gaped at him in disbelief. 

“The hell are you talkin’ about?” Asked the strange man, “If you're who I think you are, It’s you guys’ fault it got out.”

"What?" Will spat, his face twisted up in frustration. “We found her out here. She’d already be dead if it wasn’t for us.”

The guy thought that over for a minute. He lowered the gun.

“You two are comin’ with me.” He finally said, nodding towards the hillside behind him. 

Hannibal and Will looked to one another and went to gather their things but he stopped them.

“Uh, no.” He tutted, “Leave your shit. Weapons included.”

Reluctantly, Hannibal unfastened the machete from around his waist. It dropped to the sodden ground with a muffled clang. The artificial affability was completely gone now, replaced with an icy, hungry stare.

“C’mon.” The man said, “Ladies first.”

They trudged up the slope, the man trailing a few steps behind them. Will looked to Hannibal apologetically, who only glared at him in return. As the group crested the hill a quaint little log cabin came into view, not unlike the one they had left behind. Green moss coated its sagging roof, the yard muddy and strewn with broken lawn furniture and cigarette butts. 

“Well. Go on in.” The stranger said, “Door’s unlocked.”

A hot sickness crept up Will’s spine as they stepped inside, immediately hit with the tangy aromatic mixture of stale beer and cigarettes. It was dark, the windows covered in what looked like black trash bags. The door clicked shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh yeah Will isn't exactly in the best state of mind right now. I don't mean for him to come off as foolish, he's kind of losing control of himself... Just really reckless and impulsive and obviously not thinking clearly.
> 
> Also I really don't mean to perpetuate the whole "West Virgina is full of crazy gun-totting rednecks" stereotype, but I'm using the town I grew up in as a reference and... that's pretty much how it is. My intentions are not to offend anyone, and if I do I apologize. I love my hometown... I guess this is my fond, satirical homage to it and all its backwoods glory.
> 
> I'm gonna go drink wine in my bathtub and cry about my content portfolio now. Which is due in less than 24 hours. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will get into some deep shit but still find the time to awkwardly caress each others faces. Which is pretty much canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously can't apologize enough for how sporadic these updates are. I'm in the middle of my education program (I'm going to be an art teacher.. ahhhh) and my senior art show and things are really hectic. 
> 
> This chapter was incredibly difficult to write for some reason. I went back and revised it so many times. It just feels super disjointed. I meant for it to be a lot longer but decided to split it up into two chapters.
> 
> I'm really nervous about introducing OCs. They're required to further the plot but still. 
> 
> Also, just as a warning, there's some drug use in this chapter. Really, the rest of this fic will contain a lot of drug-related stuff... Not that Will and Hannibal turn into tweakers or anything like that.

They entered the dank, miserable little hovel and a creeping dread settled into Will’s gut. The door closed behind them, followed by the crunch of a deadbolt shifting into place. 

The strange man gave Hannibal a nice crack to the back of the head with the butt-end of his pistol, incapacitating him.

Had he not been so exhausted, so weakened from the punishing trek to their current location and malnourished, Will thought Hannibal would have certainly retaliated, or at the very least evaded the attack. But down like a sack of potatoes he went, and all Will could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the dull thud as the other man hit the barren wood floor.

He spun around, eyes straining to see in the murk. What little light managed to seep through the crudely covered windows cast a faint outline of the stranger’s sunken features. A wide mischievous grin crept across his face.

“The name’s Nick.” He said, unsettlingly cheerful. “Sorry ‘bout your friend. I didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at me back there, ya know? Made me kinda nervous.”

He set the cat down and advanced towards Will, so lost and lonely. 

Will retreated backwards, fumbling in the darkness and nearly tripping over a pile of newspapers. He groped around for something substantial, something he could use to defend himself only to return empty-handed and utterly alone with the stranger. 

Nick sighed, “This is when a polite person would introduce themselves in return, ya know?” 

Will glanced at Hannibal’s limp form by the doorway. From what he could see, the other man was at least breathing.

“Polite people don’t pull guns on complete strangers.” He snapped, struggling to find his bearings in the suffocating dankness of the house, “Not polite, sane people, anyway.”

Judging by the smell of spoiled food and the amount of random clutter he kept having to step over, Will fathomed a guess that this guy was some kind of hoarder. Not that it changed anything regarding the current situation; it was just that Will couldn’t keep himself from analyzing what he saw, all the details, the trail of clues leading to a larger picture. Even while in the presence of clear and immediate danger, images flashed in his mind’s eye like a jittery old film reel: Nick’s lanky form slunk down in the stained, sinking armchair as the house around him slowly rotted away. Smoking and waiting and watching, the worn pistol never far from his reach.

The isolation, the paranoia, the gun, the poise with which he moved. This was not some tweaked out hillbilly stereotype as Will had previously assumed. Had he been the gambling type, Will would have bet whatever money he had left to his name that this man was involved in something shady, something bigger. Illegal weapons, drugs, whatever illicit activities would call for seclusion and what amounted to a human guard dog patrolling the surrounding woods. 

The man advanced towards him then, matching a step forward for each stumbling one Will took back until he hit what felt like a bookcase behind him. Papers and other unseen knick knacks tumbled to the floor around them as the man towered over him. The wooden shelf dug painfully into his back.

Hot, rancid breath washed over Will’s face and the man was close, much too close. Cold metal pressed slowly into the meat of Will’s damaged cheek.

“You must not be from around here.“ The man seethed, “You’re lucky I didn’t blow your fuckin’ brains out the moment I saw ya.”

Will winced and involuntarily screwed his eyes shut for what was to come. The man shoved something into his arms and it took him a moment to realize what it was; a long coil of rope. 

“You should probably tie your friend up before he does anything stupid. Don’t wanna make a mess.”

Will’s shoulders trembled, a shot of adrenaline pulsing through his weary body. He gritted his teeth.

“Fuck off.” He spat, tossing the rope back at the man. It made a pap sound as it hit his face and he blinked, completely still and wearing that same hollow smile. His eye twitched.

Will saw the illusion of amicability suddenly fade as Nick’s face darkened, his mouth set in a grim straight line. He blinked and it was as if he’d been hit by a bus, the wind knocked out of him as he was shoved back against the bookshelf. Large, bony hands tightened around his throat and he gasped, finding himself at eyelevel with the other man. Will kicked at him, struggling for air as the delicate network of blood vessels in his eyes began to burst from the pressure. It was only then that he realized his feet weren’t touching the ground.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Nick said with a little laugh, “No clue who I am. What I do.”

Likewise, Will thought even as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. 

He fell into a wheezing heap on the floor, sucking in big lungfuls of air. He felt the weight of the rope, smooth and light, as it was wound around his neck and shoulders. Ever defiant, he glared up at the man from his place on the floor, eyes red and chest heaving. Nick took a step back and cocked his head to the side, never breaking eye contact, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the barrel of the gun in his hands. 

“You’re makin’ this a lot hard than it has to be.” He said, something like mock pity in his voice. 

Will was still and silent. The man sighed impatiently. 

“Go on.” Nick said, whistling like he was calling a dog. “He’ll be wakin’ up soon.”

With a rattling exhale Will got to his feet. He swayed like a drunk, the blood rushing to his head making him dizzy. He managed to push past the tall man, who simply stepped aside, and fell to his knees at Hannibal‘s side. He touched the back of his head and sighed inwardly to himself when he didn’t feel any wetness there. 

“Lots of people use zips ties these days. Never really cared for ‘em myself.“ Came the voice from behind him. 

His shaking hands fumbled at the knots but he did as he was told. What choice did he have? With Hannibal out of commission for the time being, there was no way he could possibly take the other man on by himself, armed and nearly twice his size. 

He had a feeling this wasn’t Nick’s first time in such a situation. 

“There.” Will announced indignantly, still kneeling next to his fallen friend. He brushed a hand over the nape of Hannibal’s neck, taking some solace in the steady fluttering of the pulse beneath his fingertips. 

This is my fault, he thought bitterly. Dinah, barely distinguishable in the poor lighting, rubbed against his thigh affectionately and he nearly choked out a sob. 

Footsteps approached and the cat scampered away. The man crouched down to inspect the bindings. Gun lowered and his attention elsewhere, Will suddenly saw his chance. He lunged at the man and sucker punched him square in the jaw, the impact resonating painfully up his arm. He went for his right hand, the one holding the gun, and mustering ever ounce of strength he had left inside him, attempted to wrestle the firearm out of his grasp. 

His bit Nick’s knuckle hard enough to hit bone and blood filled his mouth. He clawed at him like a wild animal, flesh curling under his ragged nails and the man howled and cursed at him. But his dwindling stamina proved no match for the other and he received his own blow to the head for his troubles. He saw stars, then a cut to black.

Will awoke a short time later, unable to remember where he was, what he had done to get there. He sensed Hannibal’s presence, so close he could touch him, but as attempted to do so he found his arms numb and unable to move. 

The smell of mildew was the first thing that registered in his foggy mind and everything came flooding back: the search for civilization, the cat, the man in the woods, the rope, the cabin. 

The two of them had been laid face down on opposite ends of the same twin-sized mattress, wrists and ankles tied with rope. Each had a generous-sized strip of duct tape covering their mouths. Hannibal let out a long, agitated growl as he struggled to turn himself over.

Will groaned, nauseated and vision blurred from the concussion. He tried to crane his neck to survey their surroundings, but when he lifted his head his hair pulled and stuck to the mattress under him. He smelled the blood then, a splitting pain radiating from the left side of his skull. 

Hannibal stirred beside him. Will squirmed around to lay on his back, his head pulsing, arms pinned uncomfortably beneath him. The other man managed to sit up, perched on the edge of the mattress. The room they had been placed in was just as gloomy as the rest of the house but by that point Will’s vision had acclimated to the darkness enough to make out vague shapes.

Hannibal mumbled something unintelligible under the duct tape.

With Hannibal’s back to him, Will watched as the other man raised his restrained arms behind his back as high as he could reach. His left arm began working back and forth perpendicular to his body, his muscles straining and working under the thin shirt. With a grunt of discomfort and a pleasant little pop the joint came free of its socket and the appendage was left to hang limply, giving him just enough leverage to awkwardly maneuver both arms over his head.

With both arms now in front of him, he bent down then, pulled something out of his boot that glinted in the dim light. He went to work on the rope and within minutes his hands were free, then his legs. He ripped the tape from his mouth and set his dislocated shoulder back into place with a quick, violent jerk.

Will made a muffled little sound of approval and Hannibal twisted around, crawled over to him on his hands and knees. He pulled the tape from Will’s face in one swift motion.

It felt like hours before the hunting knife managed to saw through the nylon cords around his limbs. Will’s eyes never left the door - which had been left slightly ajar for some baffling reason - through the entire tedious process. He expected Nick to come bursting in at any moment, wielding a meat hook or a chainsaw or whatever cliché horror movie weapon creepy backwoods stereotypes preferred to use on their captives these days. But as Hannibal freed him of the last of his bindings, there was only silence. 

Hannibal hovered over him. He smoothed Will’s unruly hair back and out of his eyes and grimaced at the tacky congealing blood coating his fingers. He examined the angry purple bruises decorating Will’s neck, traced a thumb across the marred throat. His lips curled into a snarl. 

“What happened?” He whispered hoarsely, hands frantically raking down Will’s body in search of other wounds. “Did he hurt you?” 

Will shook his head and immediately regretted the sudden movement. 

“Just…” He began, his words slightly slurred, “Roughed me up a bit.”

Hannibal let out a discreet sigh and pressed his lips to Will’s, only a fleeting moment of contact and shared breaths, but for Will it was as if time stood still, and in that instance he knew then that everything would be okay. He clutched at Hannibal’s shoulders desperately, like his life depended on it.

If this was to be their life now, desperate and savage, always on the run, always fighting their way out of dire situations, then so be it. 

Their dance with the dragon had left Will with so many scars, scars that had carved him into something new, something hungry and dangerous and bound to this man, this monster. He closed his eyes and remembered the blood that night, a flat black puddle blooming from Dolarhyde‘s mangled corpse. So dark in the moonlight.

Will opened his eyes to see Hannibal still looming over him. He smiled weakly. Although he’d never admit it, he was quite eager to see how this would all play out. Their captor had no idea he had willingly invited the devil himself into his home. 

“What now?” Will asked.

“I promised that, as long as I am here, I would protect you.” Hannibal said, pulling away to sit back on his haunches, “Obviously, I have failed.”

He rose from the mattress and cracked his neck. 

“I truly detest breaking my promises.” He sniffed haughtily. 

Hannibal began to search the room then, quiet as a mouse, tiptoeing around and examining the refuse littering the floor. After a few minutes he gave up. Unable to find anything else suitable for the job, he removed his shirt and returned to Will’s side, pressing the fabric to the other man’s injured head. 

“First, we stop the bleeding.” He said, applying a firm pressure to the oozing wound. Will winced with discomfort.

Once the bleeding ceased, Hannibal put his stained shirt back on. He helped Will sit upright, one arm draped protectively around his bony shoulders. They stayed like that for a long while, ears straining in the darkness as Will fought to remain conscious. Besides the everyday creaks and groans of an old house and the muffled sound of a television somewhere, there was nothing. No footsteps, no voices, just the droning silence buzzing in their ears.

Something jumped onto the mattress and both men jerked backwards in surprise. The shadowy little figure’s eyes reflected an eerie green and it slowly blinked at them before hiking up one leg and licking itself.

With a muted huff of relief, Will picked the cat up and kissed one of her scarred, pointed little ears. 

“Well.” He said, stroking the purring feline in his arms, “Let’s get this over with.”

He assumed that Hannibal would want to kill Nick, that he would feel the need to tear him asunder in some rage-induced haze. He undoubtedly felt obligated by this point; the man had made for an extremely poor host.

One fleeting glance was all it took to confirm his suspicions; Hannibal was deathly still at his side, the familiar predatory veneer falling into place. His eyes were what Will would later describe as being very shark-like, dark and hungry and trained on the doorway with a cold, unblinking intensity. 

Will imagined the other man’s eyes rolling back in his head as a great white’s would upon the moment of attack. Had he been able to feel anything other than the quivering agony ricocheting around inside his cranium, he would have been embarrassed of the jolt of arousal the mental image stirred in him.

“Shall we?” Hannibal finally asked. Will couldn’t help but grin.

The pair stood on either side of the door, two wolves readying themselves for the hunt. Piles of junk from the floor, trash and dirty cloths, was arranged on the mattress where they had been tied up, mimicking the appearance of two bodies in the darkness. Will had deposited Dinah into the closet for the time being to keep her out of harm’s way, just in case things got ugly.

Hannibal looked to Will and the other nodded. Now or never, he thought.

The older man touched the door ever so lightly, its old hinges producing a groaning creak that seemed deafening in the suffocating stillness of the house. Will’s heart fluttered in his chest, body vibrating with adrenaline. He felt anxious but alive and eager, his injuries momentarily forgotten.

When nothing happened, Hannibal inched closer to the door frame and listened. He poked at the door again, harder this time. Minutes ticked by and they lurked in the shadows, exchanging questioning looks at one another. Dinah mewed plaintively from inside the closet. 

Will held up his upturned hands as if to say, “Well? What now?” Hannibal shrugged.

He twisted his neck around the door frame, peeking out cautiously. And then he was out the door and into the hallway and Will nearly choked. Footsteps, barely audible crept down the hall. Will followed him reluctantly, sliding along the wall to steady himself. 

Hannibal was standing in the front room, the first one they had entered, his body poised and rigid like a coiled snake ready to strike. His gaze was fixed downward on something. As Will came closer he saw it as well; Nick, eyes closed and body limp, slumped in a ratty old recliner. 

Hannibal went to a window and tore off one of the trash bags, ushering in a stream of light that cut through the darkness. On the table next to the recliner was a cell phone, a used needle, and a little cellophane baggie filled with a tan power. A lighter and a spoon, stained with a brown residue, laid on his knee.

Will picked the baggie up, turning it over in his hands and grunted.

“It’s heroin.” He scoffed incredulously. 

Hannibal examined the old flip phone. His mouth twitched.

“It appears as though we’re expecting company.” He said, handing the device to Will.

A text message conversation filled the screen, the font so large that Will had to scroll down to read it all.

N: hey u need to come out here

N: i found some weird shits creepin around outside

C: Well. Fuckin take care of it.

C: Isn’t that what we pay you for

N: u need to come out here

N: I got em in the bedroom their tied up

C: Dude I’m busy

N: they had ur cat

C: WHAT

C: WHAT THE Fuck

C: Is she ok ??

N: yea shes fine

C: We’re on our way.

“We need to get the hell out of here.” Will said. 

He looked up to see Hannibal crouched down, holding the burnt spoon and lighter. He glanced up and held out his hand. Hesitating for just a moment, Will handed him the little bag. He watched as Hannibal placed a huge chunk of the substance in the spoon. He glanced up at Will.

“Excuse me.” He said, spitting in the spoon to moisten the clumpy powder.

The syringe quickly stirred the saliva-soaked mixture, making sure it dissolved. He lit the lighter under the spoon until the concoction began to bubble slightly, then sucked it up into the syringe. He rose to his feet then, needle in hand.

Nick stirred, muttering something incoherently. His eyes flew open and he attempted to get out of the chair but Will held him down, arms trapping him in the choke hold. He circled around the back of the recliner, gripping the man around the neck. 

Will bent down then, whispered to the man struggling weakly in his arms. 

“You really don’t know?” He hissed as Hannibal drew closer, “You have no clue who we are, what we do.”

The syringe pierced his jugular and Nick’s eyes went wide as the plunger fell, the huge hit entering his bloodstream. He groaned. Will was panting, his grip loosening as the man went slack in his arms. Hannibal smiled warmly at him. 

The door creaked open behind them. Will’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see two figures standing at the threshold, the light shining behind them concealing their features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally can't stop comparing Hannibal to different kinds of animals haha. I remember reading an interview where Bryan Fuller said he was like a shark, in that he kills people because its just what he does. You can't blame a shark for hunting. 
> 
> Anyway yeah this was a weird, transitional chapter. I'm aiming to update it this weekend, hopefully. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If anyone is still reading this shit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New characters, and dismemberment, and foreplay. Oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally happening. I'm introducing the two OFC's I've been worrying about.
> 
> Just a heads up, this chapter has it all: gore, drug content, and sex. 
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who reads this shit and comments and stuff. You guys are awesome. xx

“Don’t. Move.” Said the taller of the figures, its voice bright and tittering like a little bird.

The mysterious pair took a step forward, the shorter of the two following closely behind, into the light streaming in from the western window. Two young women stood before them, comedic opposites of one another: while one was tall and lean with thick braids and a pair of wire frame glasses balanced on the tip of her long pointed nose, the other was short and stout, with messy tufts of hair that stuck out in all directions under a lopsided beanie. 

The latter stared at the two men, eyes wide and wringing her chubby little fingers with all the gusto of starting a fire. 

Hannibal raised his hands in surrender, giving the most disarming of smiles. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, slipping back into the odd, artificial accent, “There seems to have been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

The taller woman snorted, brandishing a small revolver. “Oh I‘m sure! Just a big old misunderstanding. Right, C?” She scoffed.

The shorter one picked nervously at her fingernails. Her gaze flicked frantically between Hannibal, Will, and Nick’s still form. He hadn’t so much as convulsed since the presumably lethal-sized hit of heroin. Her left eye twitched periodically, face contorting with the movement. It seemed involuntary and painful. 

“P.” She said quietly, her voice huskier than her counterpart‘s, “Think he’s alright?”

The other woman shot her an annoyed look.

“You two, over there.” She ordered, motioning off to the side with the gun. 

Hannibal coaxed a still-disoriented Will to stand behind him, who grumbled something at him in disagreement. When neither man moved any further she fired a shot that struck the wall a few feet behind them. The wood there splintered with a crunch. 

“Did I fucking stutter?” She barked. 

Will rolled his eyes. He’d had enough of this shit for one day. He retreated to the corner on the far side of the room with Hannibal close behind, the gun trained on them all the while.

He watched the shorter girl rush to the unconscious man‘s side, checked his pulse. She placed a quivering hand under his nose and recoiled.

“I think he’s dead.” She said, mouth hanging agape in shock. She picked up the discarded hypodermic needle and let out a long, sad sigh, her fingers curling around the base of the syringe. 

“What?” The tall one spat, glancing over her shoulder. She glared at Hannibal and Will.

“Misunderstanding, huh? Explain.”

Will took a deep breath in an attempt to quell his rising agitation. 

“We’ll tell you everything,” He said, “Just… lower the gun.”

“Looks like he overdosed.” Chimed in the other woman, “Never get high on your own supply, Nick… You knew better.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Snarled the taller one.

She fixed her sights on Will and continued, “You’re in no position to be giving orders. What happened?”

He glanced to Hannibal, who nodded. 

Will began, “My friend and I were out hiking. We got lost and found what I’m assuming is your cat. We were trying to find our way back when this… this guy spotted us, brought us here. He attacked us and tied us up. We got loose and found him like this. We were just about to leave when the two of you showed up.”

“We don’t want any trouble.“ He continued, “Just let us go. You’ll never see us again.”

“Where is she?” Gasped the shorter woman, cupping a hand over her mouth. 

“The little tortoiseshell?” Will asked.

The girl nodded, large dark eyes brimming with tears. 

“In the bedroom closet, down the hall.” 

“Is she okay?” She cried.

Will nodded. “She was in pretty bad shape when we found her. She seems to have recuperated for the most part.”

The short, chubby girl bolted down the hallway. She returned, tears rolling down her cheeks, the mangy little feline held tightly against her body. Dinah purred and chirped, nuzzling against the girl’s face. 

“I was so worried it wouldn’t really be her.” She sobbed, “Thank you so much.” 

She sniffled, wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket, and went to the taller woman. She had to stand on her tiptoes as she whispered in her ear, starring at Will and Hannibal all the while. They argued in hushed tones.

Will felt Hannibal poke his arm. He discreetly motioned downward, the handle of the hunting knife barely visible, stuffed in the space between his boot and sock. Will shook his head; perhaps it was the concussion, but he had a nagging feeling that they needed to see this through. That perhaps, fate had brought them here for a reason, that this was where they needed to be. The two of them were exhausted, no food or water, with only a knife to defend themselves. They could run but they wouldn’t get far; Will was disoriented, legs unsteady and his head spinning. And despite the indomitable facade, he knew that the other man was in no shape to fight; his forehead was beaded with sweat and he kept kneading at his injured hand, the flesh around the bandage red and swollen with infection. 

Finally the taller of the two women looked up, cocked her head to the side with a faint smile. 

“Alright.” She said, lowering the gun, “I have a proposition.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

She licked her lips and was about to speak when the shorter girl interrupted.

“We need you to get rid of the body.” She sputtered. 

The taller one rolled her eyes. “The circumstances of our employee’s death… complicates things for us. Help us dispose of the evidence. Or at least break it down into something a bit more… manageable and we can take care of the rest. Do that and we’ll let you go. Think of it as a favor for a favor.”

Hannibal smiled, his lips curling into a wide grin. 

“Give me an hour.” He said. Will’s stomach churned. 

Hannibal and Will lugged the limp carcass into the cramped little bathroom, with barely enough room for them to stand side by side. They lowered it into the bathtub, the limbs splayed out unnaturally akimbo. Hannibal stripped off the dead man’s clothing and placed them in one of several large trash bags. 

The short girl stood in the hallway directly in front of the entrance, watching with rapt attention and stroking the cat in her arms. The women, to the men’s shared surprise, had given them a bowie knife for the job, larger than the one Hannibal had hidden away inside his boot. 

He looked up at Will, something like sympathy in his eyes. 

“There’s no need for you to be here.” He said quietly, “Go. Sit down and rest.”

Will let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. He nodded feebly.

“You can go out into the living room with Del.” Said the girl in the doorway. She suddenly realized her mistake, biting her lip. 

“Aw shit.” She cursed, her eyes looking like they might pop right out of her skull. The muscles around her left eye spasmed for a moment, the repetitiveness perhaps indicative of a nervous tick, Will thought.

“We’re not supposed to use names.” She squeaked, “Please don’t say anything.”

Will shrugged weakly, completely ignoring the apparent slip up and made his way into the living room. Del was lurking by the front door, the only way out. She eyed him suspiciously but said nothing as Will collapsed onto a sofa, next to the soiled chair Nick had passed away on.

“Yeah, I was gonna say.” Chuckled the woman, “I wouldn’t sit on that other one if I were you. Pretty sure he shit himself when he died.” 

Will groaned and clutched the side of his head. He wanted to keep an eye on the tall woman, gun still in hand, but his eyelids grew heavy and despite his efforts, he slipped into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Hannibal went to work on the cadaver, all muscle memory and routine. He could feel the girl observing the process from the doorway. He made several incisions with the intent of draining as much bodily fluid as possible, and watched as the blood slowly seeped out and swirled down the drain. He sat back and turned to the girl.

“You’re quite brave, being in here with me. Alone.” He said, voice low and menacing. 

The girl laughed, bouncing the cat in her arms. “Nah, not really.”

Hannibal smiled at that, amused. “It would be easy to take you hostage. You were so kind to provide me with the means to do so.” He said, waving the blade playfully in the air before him. 

“I doubt it. Even when you don’t think D’s paying attention, she is. She’s always listening. Plus your friend’s out there with her now. She’d like a reason to kill him.” She said cheerily, taking a step forward, “That’s what she wanted to do in the first place, y’know? She wanted to kill both of you but I convinced her not to. We’ve never been good at getting rid of bodies. That was Nicky’s job.”

Her eyes lit up then. “Hey, maybe you guys could be our new Nick! I mean, since we have an open position now.”

Hannibal snorted a laugh at that. He returned to the side of the tub, his knife disappearing into the junction between Nick’s arm and shoulder. He would have preferred a bone saw, but dismemberment with a knife was possible as long as one separated the limbs at the joint. Possible, but very time consuming. The girl took another step closer.

“You’re real good at this.” She said, “Like you’ve done it before.”

Hannibal sighed, hackles raised at the invasion of his personal space.

“I‘ve butchered animals since I was a child.” He explained, “Humans are not so different.”

“Alright then.” Said the girl. He could hear the smile in her voice, “So you guys got lost in the woods, huh? That‘s kinda weird.”

Hannibal grunted in exertion, finally severing the arm from the torso. He took a moment to admire the gory mosaic nestled within, layers of fat and muscle and connective tissue glistening in the sick yellow light of the bathroom. It made him feel warm, even more so than the fever that had slowly begun to overtake to his body. 

“Yes.” He replied breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow. This was much harder than he had anticipated. 

The girl sat on the closed toilet seat, her stubby legs barely reaching the dirty tiled floor, so close that Hannibal shot her a disapproving look. He would have liked nothing more than to gut the insolent little shit, but with Will out of sight and in such a vulnerable state, he resisted. Her upper body swayed back and forth, reminding him of an overgrown, fidgeting child.

“You guys from around here?” She pried, leaning forward to watch him work, all the while still rocking to and fro.

“No.” He muttered. He was hunched over the tub, struggling to remove the other arm. He moved quickly; once rigor mortis set in, it would be difficult to maneuver the body and his strength was already waning. There was much more blood than he would have liked, coating his hands and making it hard to hold the knife steady.

“I can tell.” Chimed the girl, “The accent kind of gives it away.”

Hannibal was sawing through the sinew when she said that. He stopped and turned to the girl, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You keep slipping in and out of some accent.” She said, “What are you, like German or something?”

The second arm came free and Hannibal laid it atop Nick’s chest. He let out a tired huff as he looked at the legs.

“Yes.” He lied, moving over to the other end of the bathtub, “How observant of you.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, examining the thick swell of muscle connecting Nick’s thigh to his torso. He twisted around, donning what he hoped was a friendly smile. From the look on the girl’s face, it appeared to have the opposite effect.

“Would you be so kind as to fetch me a saw?” He asked politely.

The girl fidgeted and muttered, averting her eyes. “Where the hell am I supposed to find a saw?”

“You seem like a resourceful young lady.” He said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

She whimpered and scurried away, out of the bathroom and down the hall. She returned quite a while later, a rusted old saw replacing the cat in her arms. Hannibal tried not to groan when he saw the corroded metal, the jagged teeth of the tool worn down to dull little nubs. A rural landscape depicting an old mill was painted, rather poorly, on one side. 

“I found it under a lawn chair!” She exclaimed, waving it triumphantly.

It took Hannibal a total of two hours and forty-seven minutes to fully dismember Nick‘s body, neatly organize the pieces into separate garbage bags, and douse the tub with bleach. Although the area surrounding the homestead was isolated, and he doubted that anyone would come looking for the man, Hannibal was nothing if not thorough. 

Will was awake now and despite the maddening thirst and his rumbling stomach, he felt somewhat refreshed. Or slightly more alert, anyway. He stood by Hannibal’s side as the other man presented the finished product of his efforts. He dropped six bags at Del’s feet, his face a blank slate. He had already decided that the remainder of the disposal would be up to them.

“Took you long enough.” Chastised the taller woman, finger pursed to her lips, “You said an hour.”

“Under normal circumstance, yes.” Hannibal sniffed, “Provided the proper tools, of course.”

“And now you uphold your end of the bargain.” Said Will. 

The short girl looked to Del expectantly, then leaned over to whisper something in her ear. The taller woman stared down at her for a moment, nodded once in agreement.

“I’m guessing you two need a place to stay, right?” She said, “I mean, unless you want to spend another night in the woods. Because from the looks of it, that’s exactly what you‘ve been doing.”

The shorter, stouter girl piped up, “A hot meal… Maybe a nice shower?” She emphasized the last part, her face screwing up into a grimace.

Hannibal cast a sideways glance towards Will, his shoulders slumped and face wind burnt. He looked horrible. They couldn’t go on like this. It would be physically impossible for them to make it out of the woods and into town on foot. They had no money, no extra cloths. Hell, he could barely hold himself up.

“Yes.” He finally said. His usual confidence had been burned out of him, leaving him hollow, and he felt as if he were on the verge of breaking.

It was nearly dark when the three of them piled into the back of the waiting vehicle outside. Will almost laughed despite himself when he saw it; a big old white van with the words “Riverside Café” scrawled across the side in a retro, flowing script. 

With Del at the wheel, they sat amid an array of cardboard boxes, no seats. Will rested his head against the cool white interior wall and noticed the sudden drop in temperature. 

Ah, a food van, he thought, of course it would be refrigerated. Lovely.

Hannibal stayed close at his side, positioning himself between Will and the shorter girl who had followed them in. She sat across from them on the floor of the van with her back against the opposite wall, the gun in her lap and the cleaned saw at her side. She wanted something to remember Nick by, she’d explained as she jumped to reach the tool Hannibal had been holding just out of her grasp, yelling at her how foolish it would be to leave with evidence. He had eventually relented when she started to cry big crocodile tears, her plaintive wails like railroad spikes driving into his skull.

“My name’s Charlie, by the way.” She said with a crooked smile, “I guess now it’s okay to say names.”

They ignored her. Hannibal toyed with the handle of the knife inside his boot.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to tell me,” She continued, “I already know your names.”

That got their attention. The two men went rigid, their fatigue suddenly forgotten as they sat upright. Hannibal’s fingers twitched at his side, itching to wrap themselves around the girl’s neck.

“You’re Will Graham. You used to be a criminal profiler for the FBI. A while back people thought you ate that poor girl even though you didn’t. Everyone thinks you’re dead.” She went on, pointing at each of them in tandem, “And you’re Dr. Lecter. You Houdini’d your way out of police custody and have been missing ever since. 

“You really do eat people.” She snickered, “Hannibal the Cannibal. I have a book about you.”

The blood drained from Will’s face. His mouth started to water and he felt as though he would throw up. He could see Hannibal’s jaw muscles working as he grinded his teeth. Besides that he remained stoic as ever.

“What a clever girl you are.” Hannibal practically hissed.

“It was hard to tell at first with the facial hair but the scar…” She said, looking towards Will and tracing a finger across her forehead, “I recognized it from my photos, just put two and two together. I have a lot of photos. I collect them, mostly pictures of serial killers and crime scenes. Although you’re not really a serial killer, are you, Mr. Graham? More like a bystander.” 

Charlie frowned, brow furrowed. Something about that train of thought obviously brought her a great deal of distress. The left corner of her mouth spasmed.

“I’ll need to reorganize my albums tonight.” She whispered, possibly to herself.

“Oh my god.” Will groaned, head in his hands. He rocked back and forth, struggling to control his breathing. The world around him was spinning out of control.

“It’s okay! I won’t tell anyone. Del doesn‘t know. She doesn‘t like my photos.” Charlie said, a wide gap-toothed grin splitting her face. “You guys found my cat so I want to help you. Guess what her name is.”

“Oh my god.” Will muttered again, the words muffled by his hands. 

“It’s Betty. We should come up with new names for you two.” She said, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from her jacket. She pulled one out, placed it between her lips as she dug around in her pockets for a lighter. 

“People around here are a bunch of ignorant shits. They’ve all got their heads up each others’ asses, too worried about the town gossip to pay any attention to important things.” She went on, finally lighting her cigarette. She took a long drag, “There’s a whole lot of strangers in Dally these days but you should lay low just in case.”

Will glanced up at her then, the acrid smoke making him all the more nauseous.

“How old are you, Charlie?”

“I’m twenty-nine. Del is twenty-seven.” She explained, then blushed, “But everyone thinks I’m the younger sister. I get carded all the time.”

“You’re sisters?”

She nodded, “Yeah. D takes care of me.”

 

Hannibal interjected then, “You seem to know a great deal about us. Do you have any information on the current search? News stories, perhaps?”

Charlie looked as if she was about to burst with pride. With a little giggle she snuffed the cigarette out on one of the cardboard boxes. 

“Like I said, pretty much everyone thinks you’re dead.” She said, chewing on her nails nervously, her sights trained on Will, “They think that this guy right here killed you and then fled the country. They made some arrests, I think, suspected accomplices and all that.

“It was a big deal for a few weeks,” She continued, “But the excitement’s died down a bit since then.”

“Arrests?” Hannibal inquired, a hint of panic in his voice.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. If Del says it’s okay I’ll bring you guys a tablet out to the guest house when we get back. I’ll probably get the story wrong anyway.”

Will was hyperventilating now. Hannibal discreetly placed a hand on his lower back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the tight knot of muscles there.

“Dude, seriously. It’s alright.” Charlie sighed, rolling her eyes.

“What exactly did you say to your sister to convince her to take us in?” Hannibal asked.

Charlie smiled, one corner pulling tighter than the other. “I said that we could use you.”

Within an hour the van stopped jerking and shaking around as the road beneath transitioned from gravel to pavement. Soon it came to a halt altogether and as the back door swung open, Will readied himself for a force of FBI agents to come storming in, guns drawn. But it was only Del, a hand resting on her hip as she motioned for them to get out.

“Come on.” She said, tapping the outside wall of the van. “The coast’s clear.”

Hannibal exited first, followed by Will, with Charlie bringing up the rear. 

“So I hear you two robbed a bank or some shit?” Del asked.

“Huh. Yeah. Forgot to mention that.” Charlie laughed nervously, wringing her hands as she glanced up at the two men.

Hannibal smiled. “Pointless to lie about it now.” He said sheepishly.

Del grinned, her first genuine expression other than disgust or annoyance.

“I’m not one to judge.” Said the tall woman as she lead the way towards the old Victorian home looming ahead. It had probably been beautiful once, with its intricate molding and grand, columned porch. The white clapboard siding was damaged in places, tendrils of choking ivy creeping up the eastern side.

She followed the narrow, uneven stone path around the house towards the back where sat a quaint bungalow-style house, with dark brown siding and white trim. She stopped and turned to them.

“I’m sure you’re more than aware that our business is less than conventional.” She said, folding her arms.

“Or legal.” Charlie barked.

“That too.” Del went on, “We’ve accumulated a nice network of employees over the past few years, but none that have any real experience. With Nick’s untimely passing we find ourselves in dire need of some new muscle.”

“You‘ll need to be more specific.” Hannibal interrupted.

“Of course. We acquire our product through a friend at the local airstrip, then distribute that product throughout the tri-state area. Sometimes, rival businesses encroach on our territory, peddling their own product. That’s where you’ll come in. There will be other jobs, of course. Things that I don’t feel secure discussing just yet.” 

“So.” Will finally spoke up, “You’re drug dealers.”

“You make it sound a lot more simple than it is.” Del scoffed, “It’s more than that. You’ll see, eventually.”

She procured a set of keys from her pocket, unlocked the door, and reached inside to turn on the lights. The interior was bright and warm and even from the bottom of the front stairs, Will could see the bed calling out to him. 

“So here’s the deal.” Del said, stepping aside to allow the two men entrance, “You work for us, we provide you with food, shelter, clothing, drugs. Whatever you need. You’re free to come and go as you please, but know that we have eyes everywhere and the cops won’t help you. By the looks of you two, I’d said you’ve both got some interesting pasts. I don’t think you want anyone digging too dig.

“I’m gonna lock the door from the outside. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I don’t fucking trust you. Charlie’ll bring you out some supplies, food, toiletries, stuff like that. I’ll see what I can do about cloths.”

And with that she was gone and the door, as promised, was locked from the other side.

Inside was sparsely decorated but clean and airy, made up of an open floor plan that reminded Will of the downstairs of his old house. He immediately collapsed onto the queen-sized bed in the corner but Hannibal hoisted him back up by the back of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He turned him around, hands going to his hips.

“How are you feeling?” He breathed, nuzzling against the other man’s forehead.

Will grasped Hannibal’s upper arms and snorted a laugh. “It seems we‘ve been kidnapped by drug-peddling hipsters. One of whom has an unsettling interest in the two of us, particularly you. I’m about as good as can be expected. What about you? You don‘t look so good.”

Hannibal shrugged and Will touched his face, pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

“You’re burning up.” He gasped. 

A tentative knock came from the door and the two of them jumped, instantly recoiling from one another. 

Charlie peeked inside sheepishly, an overflowing cardboard box in her arms. 

“Hi.” She whispered, setting the package on the ground. 

“It’s not a lot but it’ll get you through the night. There’s some frozen dinners in there, soap and deodorant and stuff to shave if you want. We tried to find cloths; it’s all leftovers from exes and some of our dad’s old stuff.”

Her voice dropped a few octaves, “I tried to sneak out the Ipad but Del was watching. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”

Will nodded, “Thank you.”

Charlie grinned crookedly at that and started to leave but paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“The couch folds out into a bed.” She stammered, “I mean if you wanna use it. You don’t have to. I mean, whatever floats your boat, man.”

As the door was shut and locked once again, Hannibal turned to Will. The latter laughed. 

“Go on.” He said, and Hannibal practically sprinted to the bathroom, towel in hand.

Will watched as dirt and blood swirled down the drain below him. Head down and arms braced against the shower wall, the water cascaded over his flesh and down his curved back, nearly hot enough to scald him. He stayed like that for a long while, eyes screwed tightly shut, until the shower began to grow cold. He got out and looked himself over in the mirror. It was the first time he’d seen himself in weeks, since the incident. The cabin hadn't had any mirrors.

Tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, ringed in dark circles. His hair looked longer when it was wet, lacking any of its usual curl and nearly touching his shoulders. He picked up the razor laying on the lip of the sink, touched the scruff on his chin.

Hannibal was sitting on the edge of the bed when he left the bathroom, with nothing else to do but wait for his return. He straightened up when he saw Will.

“Feeling better?” Hannibal asked, hands resting on his knees. He had on a pair of black sweat pants that read DHS Wrestling along the right leg. Will chuckled. 

“Yes, I am. I’m sure you feel like a new man. And you joined the wrestling team while I was gone! Good for you.” He said, going to sort through the box of cloths sitting on the nightstand. He caught a glimpse of Hannibal rising to his feet in the reflection of the antique oval mirror against the wall, his eyes so dark.

The first thing Will felt were the feverishly hot, rough hands around his waist, the fingers ghosting along his chest and stomach. The second were the lips on his neck, teeth raking along the pulse point, the rumble of a growl in his ear. And thirdly was the firmness pressing against his backside, the rolling movements of the others hips, and the towel being gently coaxed off of him. 

Will watched the scene play out before him in the mirror, his eyes heavy lidded and his jaw slack as he stood there, battered body exposed and littered with cuts and bruises. Fingertips traced his marred throat.

“Beautiful.” Hannibal breathed, as if in reverence. 

Will turned to face him and their mouths crashed together, frantic and hungry and achingly desperate. Hannibal’s hands raking up and down his back before settling on his ass, and before he knew it he was being lifted off the ground, legs instinctively wrapping around the other man’s waist. 

Hannibal laid back against the headboard with Will on top of him, Hannibal’s short beard and Will's freshly shaven face making for an odd contrast in texture as they kissed and nuzzled against one another. Hannibal pulled him closer still so that Will was straddling his stomach. He reached around to sink one finger into him, a gentle even pressure that slid tentatively past the tight ring of muscles there. Will moaned against Hannibal’s throat, his hips bucking on their own accord. 

Will held onto him for dear life, arms flung around the other man’s neck as he added another finger, pumping slowly in and out of him. He grinded against Hannibal’s abdomen, already slick with precum as he whined and panted like a whore.

Will sat up, pulling back so that he could press his mouth to Hannibal’s chest. The fingers slipped away as he traveled downward, his lips trailing along the other man’s abdomen. His teeth sunk into a hipbone and he worked Hannibal’s sweat pants off of him, the already firm cock coming loose from the restraining fabric.

He watched Hannibal through dark eyelashes, eye contact never breaking as he took him into his mouth, as his lips grazed the underside, as his hot breaths ghosted over the swollen tip. Hannibal gripped one of his legs to pull him closer, close enough so that he could continue fingering him as Will sucked his dick.

The sensory overload caused Will to falter for a moment, moaning around the head of the member in his mouth, his arms trembling. Hannibal’s other hand found its way into his wet hair, guiding his movements. 

And then Hannibal was behind him, both of them on their knees and facing the mirror on the wall, his back flush against Hannibal’s chest. In the reflection he was flushed and out of breath, his chest mottled with red. 

“Do you enjoy seeing yourself like this?” Hannibal hissed, giving him a few firm pumps. Will’s legs nearly buckled under him but the other man held him there as if displaying him for some unseen audience. He wanted him to watch, to see everything.

“Not me,” He gasped as Hannibal slid into him, making him cry out, “Us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah Del and Charlie are kind of horrible people. But then again so are Hannibal and, to a lesser extent, Will. 
> 
> Charlie is manic, dangerously unpredictable, and almost debilitatingly immature. Del is the more calculating of the two, and most of her energy goes into reigning in her older sister. I hope people like them, my whole goal was two write two interesting original female characters that weren't completely irritating, and wouldn't interfere with the Hannigram goodness. 
> 
> Sexy times continue in the next chapter. Mostly because I need to be up in five hours and I really wanted to get this update out before going to bed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No story development, just sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter. I had some free time so I thought I'd finish that sex scene. Nothing like some good old smut before bed.

A mouth latched to his shoulder, teeth sinking into the flesh there, the searing pain and inevitable bite mark branding him as the property of another. The thought of that coaxed a wanton whine out of Will. He arched back, twisting around to claim that mouth, his nails digging into the meat of Hannibal’s thigh to steady himself as he was fucked. Strong, sinewy arms held him upright, fingers splayed out across his chest and lower belly like spider legs.

“I want you on top of me.” Will panted.

Hannibal guided him back onto the bed, positioned himself between the other man’s parted thighs. Will stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, lips parted. Hannibal eased himself back in, slow and steady. Fully inside him once again he leaned down, pressed his forehead to Will’s, his hands finding their way into the mess of curls still slick with water.

“Fuck.” Will hissed through his teeth. It hurt, terribly so but he welcomed the pain. It made him feel lucid, alive. He had spent so much of his life tangled up in his own thoughts; it felt good to be in the present, to truly savor the moment.

Hannibal kissed him as he began to move, rolling his hips and Will let out a muffled gasp. He wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, the other man’s head resting against the crook of his shoulder.

Even from here he could still see a portion of the mirror, catching a glimpse of his toes as they curled, of Hannibal’s undulating back muscles as they flexed and strained under his tanned skin. He threw his head back against the pillow, hands gliding along the body pressed against his own, the curves and heat of arms and neck and shoulder blades, slick with perspiration, that he had become so familiar with in the preceding weeks. Will needed this.

Even in their strange surroundings, in an unfamiliar house so far away from anything resembling home, Will felt as if nothing else existed save for the two of them. The hot huffs of breath rolling over his skin, the fingers twisted in his hair, the fluttering heartbeat echoing his own. He chuckled despite himself at the sentimentality and Hannibal raised his head to look up at him. His thrusts slowed but their intensity remained the same. 

“What?” Hannibal asked breathlessly, giving a lopsided little smirk.

Noses touched and labored breaths mingled. Will cupped a hand to the other man’s face, thumb tracing his lower lip. The words quivered in his chest like the beating of wings. He wanted to say it, felt like he needed to; time wasn’t exactly on their side. But he couldn’t, his own selfish fear and uncertainty holding him back. 

And so he just kissed him, long and deep. Hannibal sat up, still inside of him, and pulled Will along with him to sit in his lap. Will’s reflection stared back at him over Hannibal’s shoulder, arms wrapping possessively around the other man’s neck. 

“I’ve missed you.” Hannibal groaned as Will lifted and lowered himself slowly, his back arching.

He gripped his firm ass, guiding him up and down as Will impaled himself on the hard cock buried within him, each movement punctuated by a breathy little, “ah“. His movements became more frantic, tinged with urgency. He whimpered, lips pressed to Hannibal’s temple as they rocked back and forth, the bed creaking and straining beneath them. 

Will bit into Hannibal’s shoulder when he came, muffling his scream. He pulled back, the taste of copper filling his mouth and Hannibal attacked his lips hungrily. He didn’t take long to finish after that.

They laid in the hazy aftermath, limbs entwined and Hannibal on top of him, head on his chest. He was panting, hot puffs of air tickling Will’s skin, the corners of his mouth still caked with his own drying blood. 

“I missed you too.” Will muttered sleepily, fingers lazily trailing up and down the arm draped across him. 

Hannibal replied with a rattling snore. Will chuckled. But then he noticed the heat still emanating from the other’s body, the clamminess of his skin even after they had been lying there for several minutes. Gently as he could, he lifted Hannibal’s hand, examining the exposed area around the fresh white gauze. Red lines radiated out from the wound, the surrounding flesh hot with infection. Will furrowed his brow, his momentary peace of mind coming to an abrupt end. Despite his exhaustion, he did not sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahh Hanni's not feeling well. And of course he's keeping it to himself like a douche. 
> 
> Yeah idk I just have a hard time imagining Will and Hannibal doing the whole "I love you" thing. I mean those bastard love their deep ass intellectual conversations, but when it comes to an actual romantic relationship, I feel like they'd prefer to act out their feelings rather than talk about them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's got a fever. And the only prescription is Will Graham's butt. 
> 
> Just kidding, he totally needs antibiotics and first aid because his hand is super infected and gross.
> 
> Also Will has (another) nervous breakdown. 
> 
> And Charlie is a total creep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm almost finished with my art show stuff (its on December 2nd omg) and I'll have so much more free time once it, and the semester is over. I apologize for the sporadic updates. I really love writing this story and it sucks that I don't get to work on it as much as I'd like.
> 
> This chapter was just weird. But I hope you like it.
> 
> Feverish delirious Hannibal is my new favorite thing btw. 
> 
> Also I apologize in advance for any typos... I'll fix them later. Promise lol.

The harsh crackle of static vibrated in his skull, in the hollow of his chest. The surrounding tangle of impenetrable woodlands buzzed with a mechanical droning and he instantly recognized it for what it was; he was asleep, and this would be nothing more than another nightmare. This time, however, the call was not one of intimidation; it whined sorrowfully with a barely detectable inflection of pain. He turned, something dead and brittle - probably leaves, but he couldn’t help but imagine a carpet of beetle carapaces for some reason - crunching under his bare feet. 

The creature was there again, although it too had changed. Gone was the creeping horror, the agile body of pure darkness and horrible grace. Its too-long legs buckled beneath it as it sunk to the forest floor with a burst of white noise. The browns and grays of the ruined trees blurred as he approached the thing, trails of color growing hazy at the edges of his vision, burning into his retina and leaving a ghostly afterimage in their wake. 

He knelt down and the ghastly being swiveled around to face him, the ivory grinning stag skull in stark contrast to the gloom all around them, almost luminous in the murk. It was motionless for a while and in that instance Will thought that the thing would lunge at him. Then, ever so gently, it rested its head in his lap, surprisingly solid and hot against his thigh. The unexpected heaviness of the skull and its massive cluster of antlers pinned him to the ground and for a moment he panicked. 

But he felt the thing looking at him, perceived the darkness within the empty eye sockets gazing up at him with something like endearment and desperate longing. He laid his hand upon the boney snout, fingers tracing the cracks and divots of its surface and the static grew quiet, dying out and replaced by a soft chattering. To Will it sounded like a room full of people all conversing at once in hushed tones. He even thought he could distinguish different voices within the nonsensical chorus, familiar voices that made his chest tighten and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A gust of humid air shot from the end of its ravaged nasal cavity and he shivered. 

“Is it… Are you…?” He breathed, touching the tip of a jagged antler. He gasped and recoiled suddenly, pulling his hand away to see a pin prick of blood welling up on the pad of his index finger.

He stared at the blooming crimson and without a second thought pressed the injured digit into the writhing black mass of the creature’s body. It was warm and alive, and the sensation was not unlike sticking one’s hand into a tub of churning bathwater; pure comfort and contentment, like returning home at the end of a long journey. He could feel the blood being sucked hungrily from the wound and then his entire hand was inside, then his arm and he realized he could not pull away. A powerful force was sucking him into the nothingness, into the twisting shadows. It pulled and pulled, the antlers drawing closer until they gradually began to pierce his body. So slowly, inch by inch until he was fully impaled upon them. He gasped, the taste of old pennies filling his mouth and he couldn’t breath. He just sputtered and choked on his own blood as the antlers shivered and moved, groaning and creaking as they grew and encircled him in a horrible embrace. They snaked their way down his throat, through the still-healing injury on his cheek. They reopened old wounds; the faded silver scar on his forehead, the long ragged mark across his belly. It was hard to see the edges now; where Will Graham ended and the monster began. But he was not afraid. Despite the pain and the blood in his eyes, for the first time in a long time, he felt whole, he felt powerful. Entwined with this other being, he realized that they were one in the same. 

“We're conjoined.” Rasped the creature in a chilling imitation of his own voice, “I'm curious… whether either of us can survive… separation.”

Everything went black after that, and the only thing he could recall upon awakening was the vague, tender warmth of an embrace, and the whispers of the dead in his ear. 

\- - -

Will awoke to the mournful cry of a distant train whistle, so faraway in the early morning darkness. He immediately groped around to feel nothing but empty space and cool sheets surrounding him.

“Hannibal?” He called, voice cracking.

“Here.” Came the weak reply.

Will left the bed, the faux-wood flooring uncomfortably cold beneath his feet. A dim table lamp illuminated the space around the corner to the left. He followed it and found Hannibal there, sitting on the kind of fold-out couch more fitting of a college dorm than an actual house. He was hunched over, shirtless with a wad of soiled bandages lying at his feet. He was examining the palm of his left hand. Even in the poor lighting, Will could make out the beads of sweat dotting his forehead and neck.

He quickly glanced up at Will before returning his attention back to the festering wound. The expression he wore, weariness to the point of delirium, caused bile to rise in the back of the younger man’s throat. 

An array of first aid supplies laid strewn out across the cheap Ikea coffee table before him: cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, Naproxen, antibacterial cream, and more gauze. But they were still sealed neatly within their original packaging, as if Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do with them. 

With sudden urgency Will knelt down in front of the other man, and he noticed the shallow labored breaths, the way his chest heaved painfully. He noted the exposed gunshot wound and let out a quiet sigh of relief that at least it seemed to be healing properly. 

“May I?” He asked, and Hannibal nodded, allowed the other man to take his upturned hand into his own. 

Will winced at the sight: what had once been a simple, clean slice was now an open, weeping sore streaked with infection. The entirety of his palm was swollen, unnaturally tight and bulbous and leaking a yellowish liquid from its dark red epicenter. 

Hannibal snorted a laugh.

“Some doctor, eh?” He said, eyes half-lidded, “Can’t even… take care of himself.”

Will shook his head, visibly distraught as he began to peel the plastic seal off the bottle of alcohol. He stopped himself and instead went to the kitchenette sink to thoroughly wash his hands, and returned with two rags and a bowl of hot soapy water. He returned to his spot on the floor and Hannibal’s mouth twitched as he washed the affected area, attempting to clear away the pus and any remaining debris. 

“We’ve talked about this.” Will muttered, using the other rag to rinse the wound in fresh water, “No more secrets.” 

Hannibal looked genuinely saddened by that. 

“I didn’t want - ah!” He gasped as Will applied a cotton ball of antiseptic to the cut. 

Will didn’t want to be mad, wasn’t truly mad; he was just disappointed and above all else, worried.

“Didn’t want to what? Trouble me with your life threatening infection?”

Hannibal nodded as he watched him work. “It didn’t seem important at the time.” 

Will looked up at him pointedly, then his eyes softened. 

“We’re… this is all we have now.” He said quietly, motioning between the two of them, “I hate to admit it, but if one of us goes down, the other is sure to follow. I’d say that’s pretty important.”

Hannibal gave a lopsided grin and, almost drunkenly, leaned forward to plant a big sloppy kiss on Will’s cheek.

“Look at you,” He chuckled, “The patient has become the… doctor of his… doctor.”

Yeah, Will thought, he’s delirious all right. 

With the wound cleaned and dressed to the best of his limited abilities, Will lead Hannibal back to bed. He brought him some Naproxen and a glass of water, which took a bit of coaxing on his part to get down his new patient’s throat.

“You need to take this.” He insisted, trying to push the capsule past Hannibal’s lips.

The other man growled, rolled over onto his side like a petulant child. Will grabbed him by the arm and pulled him onto his back, practically holding him down as he forced the pill into his mouth.

“Hannibal, I know you’re out of your head right now but this is getting ridicu - ouch!” He spat, recoiling in surprise and spilling some of the water, “Shit! Did you just bite me? You did! You fucking bit me!” 

He looked at his hand to see a tiny red crescent-shaped mark on the end of his index finger. 

Hannibal tittered at that, uncharacteristically blithe, and covered his mouth as if attempting to hide his amusement. 

“I apologize.” He sighed, calming himself, “I won’t do it again.”

Will glared, holding out the half-empty glass. “I don’t trust you.”

Hannibal feigned hurt. He took the anti-inflammatory, chasing it with a big gulp of tepid water and grimaced over dramatically at the taste. He laid back against the pillow, throbbing hand resting on his belly. His expression shifted to something more somber. 

“Stay with me.” He whispered in the dark. 

Lying there on his back in the folds of white sheets, his features softened by malaise, he appeared devoid of his usual predatory grace and utterly vulnerable. Like the monster in Will’s almost-forgotten dream, he watched him with something like quiet desperation. 

Will scooted closer on the bed, pulled the other man against him.

“Of course.” He said.

Hannibal shifted around to rest his head upon Will’s bare chest, wrapping himself around his abdomen. Long fingers kneaded at the flesh there, stroking invisible symbols into his skin. Will sighed, kissed the top of the man’s feverish head. He smelled like the shampoo the women had left for them; something cheap and vaguely lavender-scented. 

Will held him close, just as he would want to be held in such a situation.

“Hopefully one of our new… associates will decide to check on us sometime soon. We’ll need to get you some antibiotics.”

A hand reached up and splayed clumsily across Will’s face, silencing him. 

“Shh.” Hannibal hissed, “Sleep now.”

 

\- - -

 

Will drifted in and out of sleep, unable to get comfortable with what amounted to a human electric blanket laying on top of him. When the sun had finally risen, he carefully slid out from underneath the other man, pulled on the first shirt he could find, and crept towards the front door. He pressed his nose to the window, peering out into the backyard of the larger house. 

Charlie was outside, sitting in a lawn chair on the back porch, a cigarette in one hand and a pink leash in the other. The tether ended in a dainty little harness which just so happened to be connected to a certain mangy tortoiseshell cat. Will couldn’t help but grin at that.

He tried the door and to his surprise found it unlocked. He stepped outside and was met with a cacophonous chorus of what sounded like locusts humming from all around him. He hadn’t noticed their close proximity to the woods the night before; he had been running on auto-pilot then, his memory of the events like one drawn out blur. 

Upon noticing him, the girl waved him over enthusiastically. He ambled towards the back porch, squinting in the sunlight that made his head ache; he had been so focused on tending to Hannibal, he had almost forgotten about his own injuries. 

“Nice shorts.” Snickered the young woman, taking a long drag off of what Will only then realized was a poorly rolled joint and not in fact a cigarette.

“Yours, I’m guessing?” Will said, taking a seat on the stairs. He glanced down at the gray, baggy gym shorts.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, Del made me hand over like, half of my comfy cloths to give to you guys last night. She said her stuff wouldn‘t fit you.”

“Well, thanks for that.” Will snorted, eyeballing the chartreuse monstrosity she was wearing. “Nice, uh… footie pajamas?” 

She laughed, which then sent her into a coughing fit, puffs of the rank-smelling smoke sputtering from her nose and mouth.

“It’s a onesie,” she clarified hoarsely, “And thanks. Like I said, I had to give away most of my comfy cloths. I wasn‘t left with too many options.”

Will glanced around suspiciously; he intended to get on this woman’s good side, if only for he and Hannibal’s sake. On the other hand, he didn’t want to do anything that would provoke the younger, more aggressive sibling. 

Dinah… Betty, he corrected himself stubbornly, rubbed against his leg and he picked her up, her cold little nose touching his own. He snorted a laugh when he noticed the harness she wearing was designed to look like some horrible cat dress, pink tulle tutu and all. He sat her down and she sprung away to sniff at the grass at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Where’s the other one?” He asked, voice low.

“Del?” Charlie said, “She left for work. Like, legit work. We run a diner-slash-bar thing. She works there and I take care of business here. I like it like that; I don‘t like being around too many people.”

Will nodded, filing away that bit of information. 

“So, the door’s been unlocked this whole time?” He asked.

Charlie shook her head, cheeks puffed out as she held in a lungful of smoke. 

“Nah.” She said, exhaling, “Just unlocked it when I came out. Sleep well?” 

Will picked at his fingernails, still embedded with grim despite showering. He pursed his lips.

“Well,” He began, “My friend isn’t feeling well. He cut his hand on a hunting knife a few days ago and the wound’s become infected. I cleaned it as well as I could but he has a fever and I think he needs antibiotics.”

“Dr. Lecter is sick?“ She asked, a little too eagerly.

“Yes.” Will said, “I’d appreciate your help.”

Charlie grinned crookedly. She seemed to light up whenever presented with an opportunity to make herself useful. She climbed out of the lawn chair, handed Will the leash and what remained of the crumpled joint.

“I‘ll be back. Don‘t go anywhere.” She called over her shoulder, somewhat threatening as she disappeared into the house. Will couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

He sat the joint down next to him, wrinkling his nose at the familiar smell of marijuana that he had always found so unpleasant. The feline stared up at him expectantly, tail curling around her tiny frame as she squinted in the brightening daylight. 

“You’re still Dinah to me.” He cooed quietly. He reached down to scratch behind her ear. She nuzzled against his fingers, arching into the touch and purring. 

Charlie reappeared with what looked like a large zip lock freezer bag stuffed full of orange prescription bottles. She dropped it unceremoniously into Will’s lap before reclaiming her seat. 

Will picked up the bag and turned it over in his hands, the cat’s leash still wrapped around his wrist. Ceftarolin, Bactrim, Tramadol, Oxycodone; a plethora of antibiotics and painkillers, and a few little orange bottles with names he didn’t recognize. 

Charlie was watching him, chewing on her nails. Her left eye spasmed.

“Give him the Bactrim. It’s strong.” She stuttered, “Especially if he might have MRSA or something. That shit is nasty. And contagious.”

Will never even considered the risk of a staph infection. He gulped around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“Thank you, Charlie.” He said, handing the leash back to her. 

The corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m glad I can help.”

She leaned forward, her movements awkward and jerky, and picked up the remnants of the joint. She seemed agitated.

“Sure you don’t wanna take a little hit?” She asked, eyebrows raised, “You look like you could use it.”

“No thanks.” Will said, politely as he could manage, “It’s never really agreed with me; always made me paranoid. I don’t think I could deal with that right now.”

Charlie rubbed her nose and said, “How bout one of these?”

She stuck her hand in the bag of medication and fished out a bottle that read Percocet on the label, scrawled across the side in what looked like green marker.

“I know Nick fucked you up pretty bad. This will help your head.” She goaded, “Just take a couple. Two or three. You’ll feel so much better. Then we can talk. I’m really excited to talk to you; I know a lot already but I’d like to hear it from the source, ya know?”

Something about the way the words rolled off her tongue, the way she stared at him made Will’s hackles raise. He recognized that look; sharp and calculating. Perhaps it wasn’t the younger sister he needed to worry about.

This odd twitchy woman, perched in her stained lawn chair, was the only person who knew their secret. All she needed to do was make one phone call and it would all be over. 

Will forced a smile, a heavy sense of foreboding settling in his chest. 

Tentatively, he took the little plastic bottle, rattling the powdery white tablets inside. He swallowed three, struggling to gulp them down without water, his mouth so dry. 

His head did ache horribly, he thought.

Charlie gave him a pleased, gap-toothed grin. 

“There.” She cooed, “Give it some time; you’ll feel so much better, believe me.”

Will leaned back against the steps, letting out a long sigh. 

“I’ll tell you whatever you want.” He said, clutching the freezer bag, “But first I need to get these to Hannibal.”

“You’re worried about him, yeah?” Charlie asked. She rose to her feet and stretched. She ushered the little feline into the house, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Will nodded, his eye downcast, “I am.”

“Let’s go then.” Charlie sniffed, wringing her hands, “I’d like to see the good doctor. I’ve read a lot about him; it’s just so surreal to see him in person. Is he conscious?”

Will stood, his stomach churning. Maybe it was the pills. Or perhaps it was the thought that he had to go along with whatever this mad woman suggested. It seemed like their situation had been too good to be true; despite whatever Del had said the night before, they were prisoners here. He really had no choice.

“He was sleeping when I left.” He said flatly.

Charlie made her way past him and down the steps, the green fabric of her pajamas straining against her round belly and thick thighs. She paused to adjust it, pulling at the material with a grimace.

“I fucking hate this thing.” She whined, “Think I might steal some of my cloths back, yeah? I think you guys can make due with one less shirt and pair of shorts.”

When they entered the guest house, Hannibal was awake and sitting on the futon, in the same spot Will had found him earlier. He seemed more lucid now, weary but aware of the situation. A wide, rigid grin stretched across his face as Will and Charlie crossed the threshold. 

Charlie wrung her hands nervously, eyeing him. “Good morning.” She said, her voice shaking.

Hannibal leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He was wearing the same black sweatpants, and a gray cotton shirt. He cocked his head to the side, gaze settling on the bag in Will’s hands.

“Good morning.” He said.

Charlie took a step forward, beaming. 

“We got rid of the rest of Nick last night. Buried him in different places out in the woods, it took a long time. I cut off his fingers and cut out his teeth and put them in a can of Pepsi. I read that the sugar would help dissolve everything and make it decompose quicker.”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched. He seem genuinely amused. 

“Well done.” He said. His words were curt and stilted. Will could see the pain and exhaustion in his movements, in the way his good hand clutched his knee, the rigidness in his shoulders.

Will swept past the enamored woman and sat next to Hannibal on the futon, tossing the bag and its contents onto the coffee table as he took his seat. The older man sniffed, eyeing the medication for a moment before he began rummaging through it. 

“I recommend the Bactrim.” Sputtered the girl, “Like I told Mr. Graham, it’s pretty strong, it should help with the infection.”

Hannibal cast a sideways glance towards Will. He found the antibiotic, and a bottle of Tramadol. 

“What a bright young woman you are.” Hannibal said with a wooden smirk, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

Charlie’s face flushed as she pushed the dark bangs out of her eyes.

“I read a lot.” She said quietly. 

“I’ll get you some water.” Will said. He needed to get up, he needed to move. He felt like his skin was crawling. He scratched his arm and remembered the pills he’d eaten. A slow warmth was building in his belly, along with a tinge on nausea. He leaned against the sink in the kitchenette as he filled a glass, realizing that the pain in his skull had suddenly subsided, replaced with a hazy, blissful stupor. He had taken opioids before, the most recent being the ones Chiyoh had given him back at the cabin, right after He and Hannibal’s tumble off the cliff.

Chiyoh, his foggy mind echoed. The water was running over and out of the glass now. He picked it up and turned.

“Charlie.” He said, causing the girl to jump, “I need something… something I can get online with. A phone, a tablet, whatever.”

The girl’s bloodshot, hazy eyes went wide. Her face convulsed into a grimace.

“I’m not supposed to.” She muttered, “Del…”

Will went to her, stood before the woman, eyes pleading.

“Please.” He said quietly. 

Charlie bit her lip, brow furrowing.

“Okay, fine.” She finally blurted out, “But first I’m taking some of my cloths back.”

Will laid in a dazed heap on the futon, Hannibal sitting next to him, kneading his injured hand. They listened as Charlie went through the box of cloths around the corner, next to the bed. She giggled at something, an unsettling sound to hear coming from a fully grown woman. 

She came around the corner with a sly smirk, a few articles of clothing folded over an arm.

“I’ll be back,” She tittered, “I’ll get you the tablet, but I need it back before Del gets home. She’ll beat my ass if she finds out I gave it to you.”

Will mumbled something incomprehensible. Hannibal just nodded.

\- - -

Tablet in hand, Hannibal entered Chiyoh’s name into the search bar. Will hovered over his shoulder, watching. Several links to news articles appeared, and Will’s stomach dropped. Hannibal tapped on the first link, his mouth set in a firm grim line.

Lecter Accomplice Detained, the headline read. 

Will’s head was swimming. He leaned back against the futon, covering his face as he began to hyperventilate. The Oxycodone had fully kicked in by this point. He felt warm and floaty, but his mouth kept watering as if he was about to throw up. He laid down, head resting on the arm of the futon.

“I can’t.” He breathed, eyes screwing shut against the sudden wave of dizziness overtaking him, “Read it to me. Please.”

“The suspected accomplice of serial killer Hannibal Lecter, known only as Chiyoh, was arrested on Monday during a raid in Pittsburgh PA, prosecutors say.” Hannibal began, his voice low and even.

“Reinstated Agent-in-Charge Jack Crawford, who conducted the raid, speculates that the suspect was in the process of obtaining forged passports when she was detained by FBI agents.”

“When was this?” Will asked.

“It’s dated February 29th.” He replied quietly, “She left on the 27th.”

Will sat up, rubbed his face. “So it’s all up to us now. Our only means of escape is locked up in some FBI interrogation room and we’re stranded in the backwoods of West fucking Virginia.”

Hannibal didn’t respond to that, his cold gaze fixed on the illuminated screen. He visibly gulped and Will pulled the tablet out of his hands. 

There was a video, in the corner of the webpage. It read, “Wife of missing man…” The rest of the title was cut off, but he didn’t need to see it to know what it was. A still image of Molly filled the little box, her face puffy and worn and streaked with tears. 

With a quivering finger he touched the play button, a hot sick panic rising inside of him. Hannibal remained silent as he surreptitiously watched from the corner of his eye.

The video began with nothing but white noise and Molly sitting in a chair. An unseen person was prompting her somewhere off screen. She glanced at them nervously. Her eyes, ringed with dark circles, turned towards the camera.

“You think your husband is alive?” Asked the unseen man.

Molly glared at him before returning to the camera, biting her lip.

“I know he’s alive. I know it.” She said, struggling to keep her voice from quavering

“What would you like to say to him?”

Molly swallowed hard. Will stared at the screen, hand over his mouth.

“I just want him to know that I’m here. No matter what, I’m here. And I’ll be waiting.”

“Do you agree with the FBI that your husband helped in orchestrating Hannibal Lecter’s escape?”

Tears glistened in her eyes, her face reddening. She shook her head, not in disagreement but in defeat.

“I’m done with this discussion.” She said quietly, attempting to regain her composure. “I know that he’s alive. And that’s all that matters.”

The video ended and Will was left a sobbing wreck, head in his hands, gulping down huge breaths of air in an attempt to calm himself. He felt dirty, defiled. He scratched at his arms; his skin was crawling, itching from the opioids coursing through his system. 

The illusion had faded and he could see the situation for what it was. He had been enamored with this fantasy and the walls were finally tumbling down. This perverse, horrific imitation of a fairy tale he had been living, him running away with the monster, this man he was so infatuated with that he was blinded, oblivious to the outside world. 

He had left his wife, his son, his dogs, everything for this man that had already taken so much from him. He suddenly wanted to leave but knew that the door would be locked, and the windows bolted. His mouth watered and he rushed to the bathroom, his stomach clenching painfully as it emptied its contents. 

A hand touched his back and he recoiled. It rubbed up and down the length of his back, and he could feel Hannibal standing so close behind him, could smell that fucking lavender shampoo on him.

Will threw his head back with a groan and wiped his mouth, hair in his eyes. Hannibal pulled him to his feet and gently patted his face dry with a clean towel. Will was limp like a rag doll, emotionally drained and still high on pain pills. He crumpled against Hannibal’s chest, fingers clutching desperately at the soft gray material of his shirt and he felt those strong arms close around him. He felt so small, standing in the bathroom, the taste of vomit still in his mouth and sniveling against the other man. 

Hannibal didn’t say anything. He just held him there, nose buried in the crook of Will’s neck, his breath hot and steady against his clammy skin. And suddenly Will remembered why he’d gone through with it; that moment at the cliff, Dolarhyde bleeding out before them. Slick with blood his arms had somehow found their way around Hannibal’s shoulders and for the very first time, he had willing embraced the other man. He had felt whole and powerful. He was complete and content, those same arms that held him now, snaking around him and he was terrified. Of all the people in the world, this was the one that he was eternally bound to; this predator, a cruel facsimile of a functional human being. 

The same hands that had maimed him, stabbed him, were now touching his face, his hair so tenderly. Will looked up at him with large, glistening eyes. His bottom lip quivered.

“Of all people, why me?” He asked. 

Hannibal stared down at him quizzically. He brushed the unruly curls from his face, a thumb tracing a cheekbone. 

“Don’t you know?” He asked earnestly, “You said it yourself; we are conjoined.”

Will pressed his face into Hannibal’s shirt, his chest swelling with disgust and love and so many things he wouldn’t dare say aloud. 

“Can we please go to bed?” He asked meekly, “I need to lie down.”

Hannibal nodded, picked him up like it was nothing, and carried him to the bed. Will laid, curled on his side and hugging a pillow to his chest. As it was still quite early in the day, Hannibal sat up, back against the headboard and a hand resting on Will’s upper arm. The younger man was instantly knocked out, the opioids causing him to nod off and fall into a deep sleep. 

Hannibal could hear the fumbling of the lock in the door before it even opened. He remained motionless, his hand still resting on the other man in an attempt to offer some form of comfort; he was not concerned with this woman’s opinion of he and Will’s relationship.

Charlie peeked around the door and said, “Hey I need that tablet.”

She crept inside, observing the scene before her: the two of them in the same bed, one looming so protectively over the other. She smiled but otherwise remained unfazed.

“It’s on the coffee table.” Hannibal said flatly.

“Ah, okay.” Said the young woman, collecting the device and turning to leave.

As she closed the door Hannibal could just barely hear her excitedly whisper, “I fuckin’ knew it.” Followed by a hearty, manic laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've always been fascinated by serial killer fangirls. 
> 
> I imagine in the Hannibal universe that were would be a massive amount of women pining over Hannibal Lecter after his crimes came to light and he was arrested, and I really wanted to incorporate a character like that. So yeah, that's pretty much Charlie; she's completely enamored with his story and his crimes. Like, there's no romantic feelings there, I feel like she just has a lot of appreciation for his...uh... work. He's like her Senpai.
> 
> Also I'm sorry for my shitty fake news article. I'm horrible at those.
> 
> Once again this chapter just seemed weird but it was fun to write. I hope you guys like it and I'm sorry if I'm rambling, it's like 2am here and I've been awake since 5am. I'll shut up now.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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